


Cruise Control

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cruise Ships, Drinking, Fluff, Grumpy Athos, M/M, Minor Violence, Mugging, Oral Sex, Romance, Size Kink, Tropical Islands, holiday romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 04:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6315751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU, written as a combination of the prompts: "Holiday romance - workaholic Athos has been forced to take a vacation by his boss Treville who books him on a cruise," and "Athos is a grumpy businessman on a plane with the world’s happiest man sitting next to him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Athos stared out of the terminal window with a deepening sense of gloom. He was surrounded by excited holidaymakers which only served to worsen his mood, particularly as half of them seemed to be badly behaved children.

Technically of course, he was a holidaymaker as well. He'd reached the end of the year having managed to use up virtually none of his annual leave allocation, only for his boss to stubbornly insist he take it. A single-minded workaholic, Athos was suddenly faced with the prospect of an entire month off, and it filled him with a nameless dread. With no partner and few friends outside the work environment, Athos had no real hobbies to speak of and had been at a loss as to what he would do with himself.

That had been bad enough, except then his boss, Treville, suspecting that Athos would just end up working on things at home if left to his own devices, had promptly booked him on a cruise at the company's expense, supposedly as a bonus for all his hard work.

Athos had received the news with a look of startled betrayal.

"What the hell am I going to do on a cruise?" he'd protested.

"Relax, hopefully," Treville told him, unmoved. "You've worked yourself into the ground this year Athos, you're here all hours, and every week that passes I see the shadows under your eyes get deeper. Take some time off, God knows you've earned it."

"I like working," Athos muttered. "It gives me a sense of purpose. Not going to get that sat on my arse in a deckchair for four weeks am I? I'll go nuts."

"There'll be plenty of things to do," Treville declared, remaining firmly cheerful. "Who knows, maybe you'll even meet someone. Do you good."

Athos had snorted. "It'll be all retired old ladies. Not really my scene."

\--

Looking around the departure lounge now Athos conceded that at least the average age of his fellow passengers seemed to be a little more youthful than he'd feared, but then, they hadn't got to the boat yet.

The one bright spot in all of this was the unspoken rule that at airports you were allowed to have a drink regardless of the time of day, and Athos was consequently nursing his second pre-eight AM Bloody Mary, heavy on the vodka.

A crackling tannoy announcement abruptly declared that their flight had been delayed by an hour. Surrounded by the groans of his fellow travellers, Athos gave a grim smile and went back up to the bar. There was a perverse pleasure in the thought he would be able to return home at the end of this and declare it to be the most appalling holiday he'd ever had, so consequently the more things that went wrong with it, the more vindicated he would feel.

Coming back carrying his drink, Athos scowled to discover a stranger sitting at his table.

"Good morning." The man beamed at him. "I hope you don't mind me perching here?"

"Looks like I don't have a choice," Athos muttered.

The man's smile faltered a little. "Sorry, I - there weren't any other seats, and - if it's going to be another hour - "

"No, no, it's fine," Athos sighed. "Help yourself."

"Thank you." The hundred watt smile was back. "I'm Porthos, by the way."

"That's nice." Athos poked at his drink dismally and wondered if it was possible to commit suicide with a stick of celery.

"What's your name?" Porthos persisted.

Athos looked up irritably. "Lucifer, Dark Lord of Perdition."

Porthos just grinned. "Lucifer eh? Using up your airmiles?"

Athos almost laughed at that, then remembered he was determined not to enjoy himself. "Fine," he sighed. "Athos. De la Fère."

"Just Lucifer at weekends, then?"

That did prompt an involuntary smile, or at least an approximate twist of the lips. Annoyed at himself for cracking so easily, Athos slumped down in his seat and resolutely ignored all further attempts at conversation.

A mere three quarters of an hour past the initial hour's delay, they were finally called for boarding. Relieved at the opportunity to escape his talkative new acquaintance, Athos shuffled on with the rest of the passengers only to halt in horror as he reached his seat to find Porthos already ensconced in the adjacent one.

"Hallo again!" Porthos didn't seem to register Athos' look of dismay. "Small world, right?"

"Too small by half," Athos muttered, resigning himself to a barrage of unwanted conversation for the next ten hours. He wondered if he could manage to fall asleep before Porthos got up any momentum but it seemed unlikely. The man was already chattering away nineteen to the dozen and certainly didn't seem to have taken offence at the way Athos had rudely ignored him in the lounge.

"Do you ever draw breath?" Athos snapped finally, when Porthos had been talking for ten minutes non-stop, mostly about how he'd packed and re-packed his case six times before leaving the house that morning.

Porthos hesitated, eyes flicking from Athos down the aisle and back again. "Sorry," he said uncertainly. "I'm afraid I talk a lot when I'm nervous. It's a bad habit."

"You don't like flying?" The only thing worse than being trapped next to a talker was being trapped next to someone who was going to potentially freak out, Athos thought irritably. Then from further down the cabin the high thin wail of a baby started up and he conceded that okay, maybe he'd escaped the absolute worst thing.

"I don't know," Porthos said, and Athos frowned.

"You don't know if you don't like flying?"

"I've never flown before," Porthos admitted. "This is my first flight."

"Oh." Athos was surprised. He'd done a fair amount of traveling for work purposes, and rather assumed everybody did these days. "Well. There's nothing to be afraid of. Planes almost never explode these days."

Porthos gave him a rueful grin. "Thanks for that. I feel a lot better."

"Have a drink," Athos advised. "Take the edge off. Works for me."

"You don't like flying either?" Porthos asked hopefully.

Athos signalled the stewardess over. "No, I just don't like people."

\--

For the next couple of hours Athos managed to avoid conversation by keeping his gaze very firmly fixed on his book. Porthos, thankfully, had found the whole experience of take off tremendously exciting (less thankfully, he had explained this to Athos at some length), and ever since had been glued to the window, watching the land slip away beneath them with a riveted fascination.

Eventually though, the plane left the continent behind and half an hour of staring at the ocean was enough for the novelty to wear off. Porthos stared hopefully at Athos instead, who twitched and read the same page three times because he was furiously sending silent instructions to leave him the fuck alone. 

Either the 'fluence worked or Porthos took the hint, because he eventually huffed and pulled out a tablet from his bag instead. Athos gave a mental sigh of relief and finally managed to turn the page. 

He'd hoped that Porthos would prove to have a kindle or something and just read quietly, but after a few seconds the muted pinging of an electronic game started up and Athos ground his teeth in suppressed fury.

It wasn't terribly loud but it was intrusive, and after about five minutes Athos slammed down his book and glared at Porthos with an irate intensity.

Porthos glanced up at him, then did a double take when he caught Athos' expression.

"Sorry, is this annoying you?" he ventured.

Athos pressed his lips together. "Take a wild fucking guess."

Porthos looked helpless. "Sorry. I don't know how to turn the sound off."

Athos silently held out his hand and Porthos meekly placed the tablet into it, clearly wondering if Athos was simply going to hurl it down the length of the plane. Instead Athos peered at it for a moment and spent a few seconds stabbing at the settings before handing it back, safely muted.

"Thanks. Sorry."

"Don't mention it," said Athos stiffly. "And I mean that most literally."

A further hour passed in relative harmony, and as they were served lunch Athos put his book to one side, resigning himself to a renewed onslaught of attempted interaction.

Porthos tilted his head to see what Athos was reading, and raised his eyebrows.

"War and Peace huh? You really into that, or just hugely pretentious?"

Athos nearly choked on his bread roll, and suppressed a laugh. He supposed he deserved that for being so rude. 

In answer, he just shrugged. "I didn't want to carry a tonne of books around with me, so I figured I'd just bring one that would last."

Porthos nodded acceptingly, and seemed pleased that Athos had conceded to talk to him at last. "Any good?"

Athos considered. "Honestly? Boring as fuck so far."

"Got a couple of thrillers on here, if you want?" Porthos offered, tapping his tablet with a finger. "I figured I'd watch a movie after lunch, so you're welcome to borrow it?"

Surprised by the kind gesture Athos felt vaguely guilty for having been so standoffish, but shook his head. "No thanks, you're alright, I may as well stick with this."

"So, uh - you headed to Miami on business?" Porthos asked after a moment, desperate for someone to talk to and hoping to take advantage of Athos' slightly more affable mood.

"I wish. No, I'm on holiday."

Porthos processed this rather confusing sentiment, and nodded slowly. "Oh. Right. On your own?" 

"Yes." Athos gave him a sharp look, and Porthos held up his hands. 

"Nothing wrong with that. More people should do that. Where you headed? Disneyworld?"

Athos gave a startled laugh. "Christ. Thank you. For making me realise that it really could have been worse. No, my boss has booked me on a stupid cruise."

"Out of Miami?" Porthos asked, looking up from his food again. "Caribbean?"

"Yes." 

Porthos grinned. "You're not booked on the Versailles are you?"

"Yes, how did you - oh God," Athos guessed. "Not you too?"

"Charming," Porthos said, although he didn't look particularly upset.

"Sorry." Athos winced, realising his instinctive reaction had been incredibly rude. "Well, at this rate we'll probably be in adjoining cabins."

"Doubt it. I suspect I'm down in the bowels somewhere," Porthos said cheerfully. "Whereas any man who goes on holiday wearing a suit, I'm guessing you've probably got a suite."

Athos looked down at his clothes. It was quite a casual suit, he thought defensively. He wasn't even wearing a tie.

"I don't know," he said, and Porthos frowned at him.

"You don't know?" he echoed.

Athos shrugged. "I didn't really take much notice. I mean, it wasn’t my idea. Being stuck in some poky cabin for weeks, getting seasick and having to play boules with old ladies. Probably coming down with Norovirus. You hear about it a lot, don't you, whole ships getting sick. Spreads like wildfire on those places. Hardly my idea of fun."

Porthos looked at him dubiously. "You're a bundle of laughs you are. Look, come on, have you got your reservation details handy?"

Athos dug out the brochure and tickets from his hand luggage, and Porthos examined them.

"There you are look," he said, flipping to a page showing a beautifully appointed room. "You have got a suite. An executive one, and all. You know what that means, don't you?"

Athos shook his head and Porthos grinned triumphantly. "Twenty four hour butler service."

"You mean I could shut myself in my cabin for the duration and just get pissed?" Athos asked hopefully. Porthos rolled his eyes.

"If you're really determined to be a miserable sod, yeah, I suppose. Or you could take the stick out of your arse and enjoy the scenery and the amazing islands."

Taken aback by the rebuke from the thus-far relentlessly cheerful Porthos, Athos had the vague feeling he'd just been mauled by a labrador puppy. Huffily, he returned to his book and said little for the remainder of the flight.

Upon landing in Miami Athos had the vague dread that Porthos would latch onto him as they were headed for the same place, but to his surprise Porthos slipped away in the baggage reclaim area and didn't reappear. 

Finding his way to the coach laid on to transfer passengers to the cruise ship, Athos couldn't see Porthos in the group assembled here either, and found himself hoping he hadn't missed the connection. 

Realising that he was worrying about a complete stranger and a faintly irritating one at that, Athos tried to put Porthos out of his mind, staring out of the window instead and watching the world go by. It was hot here, but actually his cotton shirt and lightweight suit was proving to be a surprisingly good choice.

He'd managed a couple of hours' sleep on the plane, but was looking forward to a shower and a decent lie down. It might only be afternoon here, but his body thought it was much later and Athos was desperately hoping that he wouldn't be expected to attend some first night dinner bollocks with the other passengers.

Arriving at the port, the coach took them past several different terminals before pulling up at one indistinguishable from the others. Waiting his turn to check in at the desk, Athos realised the building he could see through the rear window was in fact the ship. It was absolutely enormous, far larger than he'd imagined, and his heart sank a little. 

Rattling around there on his own was going to be no fun whatsoever. It must carry thousands of passengers, and the chances of running into Porthos again, even over the course of several weeks, suddenly seemed miniscule. Not that he especially wanted to, Athos reminded himself sternly. It was just that Porthos would have been at least one friendly face in a sea of strangers, and Athos wished suddenly he hadn't been quite so cold to him.

Ascending several floors inside the cruise ship terminal, their group was escorted out onto a metal gantry that took them out over a dizzying drop and into the side of the ship.

Waiting to greet them on the other side was a small formal welcoming party, comprising the captain of the ship and some of his crew. 

Shuffling forward in line to shake hands and making a mental note to wash his own as soon as he got to his cabin, Athos gradually became aware that one of the crewmen standing behind the captain was staring intently at him.

He looked up, and blinked. Standing to something approximating attention, clad in the pristine white tropical uniform of the ship's First Officer, was Porthos.

After the initial shock, Athos' first reaction was one of embarrassment. He recalled the way he'd been banging on about how horrid it would all be, and the whole time Porthos had been part of the crew rather than a paying guest. Why hadn't the bloody man said? It wasn't like he'd shut up about anything else.

When Porthos realised Athos had seen him, he smirked slightly and then, rather to Athos' surprise, winked at him. 

Flustered, Athos could only manage a brief smile in return before the moving queue of people meant he'd shaken hands with the captain and been herded away in a group of guests before he really knew what was happening. 

He resisted the urge to look back, determined not to make more of a fool of himself than he had already.

Athos was shown to his cabin, and as the door closed behind him breathed a sigh of relief at finally being alone for the first time since he'd left the house in a taxi that morning. He had a brief moment of worry that the route here had been so complicated that he'd never manage to find his way back again if he did venture out, but that could easily be solved by staying firmly in his quarters.

Porthos had been right, he did have a suite, comprising a small sitting-dining room, a bathroom and a bedroom. His luggage had been delivered already, and Athos sank down to sit on the bed with a tired sigh. 

Well, he'd made it. It felt strangely like being sent into exile. 

Athos peered out of the window, but all he could see was a harbour wall. He pulled the curtain across and turned all the lights on, fiddling with the sound station until the suite was filled with quiet music. He lived on his own, was entirely used to his own company, but in this strange place he suddenly felt unexpectedly lonely.

Cross with himself, Athos showered and changed his clothes, before unpacking his bags and stowing everything away. Shipshape, he thought to himself with a faint smile.

The room came with a list of instructions and contact numbers, and after a brief scan through the options Athos picked up the phone and ordered a light supper and a bottle of wine to be delivered to his room. Lonely he might be, but the thought of interacting with strangers right now was worse.

The food came quickly, and was top notch. After eating, Athos climbed into bed with the rest of the wine and shortly afterwards gave in to his body's insistence that it was gone midnight despite the fact it was still light outside, and promptly fell asleep.

\--

Waking the next morning, Athos thought for a moment that he was more hungover than he'd anticipated, until he realised that the strange sense of motion was the ship and not him. They must have embarked while he was asleep, and he was faintly surprised it hadn't woken him up.

Rolling out of bed, Athos dropped into the seat under the window and pulled back the curtain, blinking in the sudden sunlight.

Outside was a scintillating carpet of blue, for as far as he could see. They must have left port in the middle of the night and were well underway to their first stopover in the Bahamas. 

The bright blue sea and cloudless sky lifted Athos' spirits a little, and he decided that to remain stubbornly in his cabin would be pointlessly churlish. He might as well at least see what was on offer.

Showered and dressed and clutching a map of the ship in one hand, he made his way with only a few false turns to the nearest restaurant. Breakfast service was well underway, but being alone he managed to get a small table no one else had wanted, right by the panoramic window.

Food was served twenty four hours a day in at least one or other of the on-board restaurants and Athos noted with amusement that he could have had a steak and a glass of wine if he'd wanted. Instead he opted for scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on a toasted bagel, and several cups of black coffee. 

Again the food was excellent, and Athos was slowly conceding that this holiday might be worthwhile if only for the food alone.

He quietly observed his fellow passengers as he ate, and noted that there was quite a mix of ages, although to his private relief no young children. Most were couples or groups, the only other guests that seemed to be on their own were, as he'd suspected, rather elderly ladies and gentlemen and even they gravitated towards each other and were seated together on some of the larger refectory-style tables.

Treville's optimistic suggestion that maybe he'd meet someone here seemed more unlikely than ever, although Athos had to admit that this was only a fraction of the number of guests aboard. Not that he was looking for anyone, he reminded himself. Relationships had always struck him as a tedious complication he could do without, which was possibly why none of them had ever lasted very long. 

After breakfast Athos ventured up on deck, and was amazed all over again by the sheer scale of the ship. It was a veritable floating city, and after he'd been walking for a good half an hour, Athos started to consider finding somewhere out of the way for a rest. 

It was nice to be outside, with enough of a breeze up here to make the heat bearable, but he soon realised finding a peaceful corner was going to be tricky. Everywhere was full of people, strolling, chatting, taking photos, heading for the pool or one of the tennis courts. There were plenty of spare sunloungers, but all of them seemed to be next to one that was already occupied, and Athos just wanted to get away from everyone.

He kept walking, down a gangway behind rows of suspended lifeboats and across a service area with vents and pipes and clouds of steam that from the smell suggested they were coming from one of the kitchens. 

Past all this was a flight of stairs between two metal walls leading up to a louvered door that seemed to be some sort of plantroom. With a feeling of satisfaction, Athos settled onto one of the steps. The position was sheltered and warm with a little shade, and more importantly away from the crowds on the main deck. It was perfect.

He leaned back against one of the walls and took out his book.

\--

Athos had been reading for perhaps twenty minutes when the sound of approaching footsteps made him look up. To his astonishment it was Porthos, who looked similarly surprised to recognise him, although his expression quickly turned to one of amusement.

"Morning." Porthos leaned against the wall and smiled down at him. "You do realise we have very many much more comfortable seats at the disposal of our passengers?"

"I prefer to be on my own," Athos said, feeling awkward. 

"Then I'll leave you in peace," Porthos said easily. "Just investigating a security report of an unidentified man loitering in the services area. Let me know if you spot him, eh?"

Athos flushed, starting to get up. "Sorry, am I not supposed to be here?"

Porthos waved him back. "Nah, you're alright. It's not technically out of bounds. I don't think anyone bothered putting up signs, on the grounds no one in their right mind would pick it as somewhere to sit." He grinned. "How's the book going?"

Athos glanced down at it. "I'm going to finish it if it kills me. Although at this rate I might be asking you to bludgeon me to death with it."

"That good huh?" Porthos laughed. "What, too much Peace and not enough War?"

"Too many people making stupid decisions," Athos complained. "Why do people do that?"

"Because they're people?" Porthos suggested. "Bit like the ones who avoid the nice padded loungers to sit on a metal step. No telling why they make some choices. Here, you're not half cat are you?"

Despite himself, Athos smiled. "Not as far as I know," he said. "Look, I owe you an apology. I was rude to you yesterday. Repeatedly."

Porthos raised his eyebrows. "Are you apologising because you've actually seen the error of your ways, or because you've now realised I have the authority to clap you in irons?" He broke into a smile. "I'd have to check the rulebook for this tub, but I could probably make you walk the plank."

Athos dropped his gaze, not quite knowing how to respond to the teasing and Porthos frowned, realising he'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry, I'll leave you alone. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine." Athos gave him a hesitant smile and Porthos nodded, giving him a brief salute of understanding and walking away without another word.

Athos watched him go, thinking idly how well the uniform suited him. And fit him, his brain added helpfully, as his eyes came to rest entirely involuntarily on the man's arse. 

Athos snorted and fixed his gaze firmly back on his book, although not quite before Porthos had finally disappeared from view. It wasn't as if he had a chance there, he thought resignedly. Not only had he spent the previous day being rude to him, Porthos now thought he was weird as well. 

He probably was. 

\--

After another hour or so Athos was beginning to feel the need for some lunch, not to mention a wee after all the coffee he'd drunk with breakfast. Stretching some life back into his legs he hauled himself up and wandered back out to the main passenger deck, trying not to glower at the mass of humanity in unpleasantly patterned shorts he now had to contend with.

With some food inside him Athos felt rather more well disposed to his fellow passengers, although he still had little wish to mingle. Instead he made his way back to his secluded corner, only to draw up in surprise at seeing something lying on the step.

His first thought was that it was somebody's coat or towel, and that his sanctuary had been invaded by some other passenger looking to get away from the rest. Irritation gave way to puzzlement and then bemused surprise, as he realised it was in fact a cushion. There was nothing to explain its presence, and he was finally forced to conclude that Porthos must have left it there for him.

It certainly made sitting on the step more comfortable, and had been pleasantly warmed by the sun. Athos wondered if Porthos had waited for him to leave, or if he'd just missed him. He had to admit it was a nice gesture, even if it left him a little fidgety at the thought someone was taking notice of him even in this out of the way corner. Still, he supposed it was Porthos' job to make sure all the passengers were comfortable and looked after, even the bizarre ones determined not to enjoy themselves. 

Lulled by the warmth and the motion of the boat, the gentle swell of the ocean just discernable even so many storeys above it, Athos was on the brink of dozing off when a shadow fell over him. He sat up straighter, shading his eyes and frowning as he realised the new arrival wasn't Porthos, which was what he'd vaguely expected, but one of the waiters who patrolled the deck and ranks of sunloungers.

"For you, sir." The waiter deposited an ice bucket containing a bottle of well chilled white wine, and a single glass on the step below him, not appearing to find the situation at all odd.

"Uh - there must be some mistake, I didn't order any wine?" Athos told him.

"Mr de la Fère?"

"Er - yes?"

The waiter beamed. "In that case, there is no mistake. With the compliments of the First Officer, sir," he said, gave a small bow, and left.

Athos stared at the wall, and then at the wine. He'd say one thing for this ship, they really did know how to look after you.

\--

The wine had gone, and the heat of the sun had mellowed into the pleasant glow of late afternoon when the waiter returned. Athos half-expected to be presented with another drink, or perhaps something to eat, but the man simply handed him a folded slip of paper and walked away again.

Frowning, Athos unfolded it. It was blank but for two handwritten words.

_Land Ahoy!_

It could only have been written by Porthos, and Athos snorted to himself, remembering Porthos urging him on the plane to appreciate the scenery.

Feeling that after the cushion and the wine it was the least he could do, Athos hauled himself up and made his way out to the main deck. People were lining the rail, and he wriggled in until he could see what they were looking at.

Coming up on the left - to port, he corrected himself - still some way ahead, a chain of dark green islands was rising from the sea. Slowly they increased in size until he could start to make out details, staring with fascination as they approached.

There was something magical about arriving by sea, and he was grateful to Porthos for tipping him off so he could experience it. He'd been to the Seychelles once, during one of his short-lived and ultimately disastrous relationships, but arriving somewhere by plane didn't have quite the same impact.

It was faintly annoying that Porthos had been right though. 

Athos stayed at the rail until the ship slowed to a stop some way out, then fished the crumpled deck plan from his pocket. There would be boat trips out to the islands the following morning, but for now they were anchored. Time to try and find his way back to his cabin.

It took him almost forty minutes, and by the time he found the right door Athos was tired and cross. All the bloody corridors looked the same and the signage was confusing to say the least. He'd ended up at the same restaurant three times from two different directions, and as he poured himself a cold drink from the mini-bar Athos decided he might as well eat dinner there tonight. He was reasonably certain he could find it again, after all. If he got lost he'd just try and find his way back to his cabin, then he'd inevitably end up there by default.

Cleaned up and back in a suit, Athos felt marginally more comfortable and made his way down the to restaurant an hour or so later. He found it with no difficulties, which pleased him so much that he found himself inadvertently agreeing to share a table when the waiter asked him where he'd like to sit. 

He'd been vaguely hoping this would mean being put with others who were holidaying alone, so he could at least perhaps make a few acquaintances, but to his horror the man seated him at a table with two people who were clearly a couple.

"Hello." The woman gave him a welcoming smile and Athos managed a strangled smile back, cursing himself for his choice. The last thing he wanted was to be a spare wheel, and these two looked sickeningly lovey-dovey. They were even holding hands for fuck's sake.

"I'm Constance," she continued brightly. "This is d'Artagnan. We're on our honeymoon."

"Oh. Good." Athos winced inwardly. This was getting worse by the second. "I mean, congratulations." He remembered his resolution to list all the appalling things about his enforced holiday to Treville when he got back and brightened slightly. "I'm Athos."

"Are you on your own?" Constance enquired, looking round as if expecting a wife to be following along at a respectful distance behind him.

"Constance don't be nosy," he husband muttered, elbowing her in the ribs. Athos warmed to him immediately.

"I'm not being nosy, I'm being interested," she frowned, then turned a beaming smile back on Athos. "Is there a Mrs Athos?"

"No. And it would be a Mr Athos, anyway," he told her, figuring he might as well lay his cards on the table early before she spent all evening trying to fix him up with her second cousin or something equally dreadful.

"Oh." She looked a little nonplussed and spent a second or so trying to rearrange her features into that expression people did that said 'oh you're gay how nice I absolutely don't have a problem with that and now I'm going to change the subject because I don't know what to say'.

Beside her, d'Artagnan had snorted with laughter and she glared at him. "What?" she hissed.

"Nothing. Your face," he amended, with a blithe disregard for his own safety. "Don't worry," he added, addressing Athos. "Some of her best friends are gay. She's got a badge and everything."

Constance had gone a mortified shade of red and clearly didn't know whether to be furious or die of embarrassment. 

"Don't listen to him," she said to Athos, who'd been listening with amusement.

"Oh, you don't have a badge?" he asked politely, and d'Artagnan choked on a mouthful of wine.

"Very funny," Constance said frostily, glaring at the pair of them. 

D’Artagnan held out the wine bottle. "Would you like some?" he offered, and Athos decided that yes, he definitely liked him.

"Thank you." He held out his glass, and glanced apologetically at Constance, who was still blushing and looking awkward.

"I hope I'm not intruding?" Athos murmured. 

"No of course not," d'Artagnan said, rather too quickly to Athos' mind. "It's nice to have some company, it's been just us for the last couple of days."

Even Athos, whose lack of tact could win prizes, felt that was a spectacularly thoughtless thing to say on one's honeymoon, and Constance's expression had gone tight enough to burst something. 

"I've never been on one of these things before," Athos said into the sudden frigid silence. "Have you?"

"Yes," Constance said, as d'Artagnan shook his head. "Once. With my first husband."

Ouch, thought Athos. "What happened to him?" he asked, not through any actual interest, but just because he was finding this increasingly funny.

"He pissed me off once too often," she declared with a meaningful look at d'Artagnan.

"Don't let her order the steak," d'Artagnan grinned. "In fact, soup might be safest."

"Don't worry," said Constance darkly. "I could still gut you with a blunt spoon."

To Athos' mild surprise d'Artagnan just smiled fondly at her. He was starting to suspect this bickering was in fact some bizarre form of foreplay. And then really, really wished he could unthink it again.

The rather strained start to the conversation did at least have the effect of breaking the ice, and after that they all got on fairly well. The food arrived and the wine kept flowing, and while Athos wasn't one of nature's talkers, the other two more than made up for it and he found the occasional interjection to show he was paying attention was all they required of him. It was quite relaxing in a way.

After they'd been there perhaps half an hour, a table that had been kept reserved at the head of the room started to fill up, and Athos noticed that while everyone had dressed fairly smartly for dinner, the people being seated there were rather more well turned out than the rest of them.

"The Captain's Table," Constance told him, noticing the direction of his gaze. "Quite an honour to be invited to eat there," she said wistfully.

"If you like stuffy formality and starched collars," d'Artagnan retorted. "She just likes the uniforms," he added in an undertone to Athos, then yelped as Constance pinched his inner thigh.

Athos thought privately that she had a point, as he watched several members of the crew file in to take the seats at strategic points between the invited guests. The captain was a distinguished looking Jamaican in his late fifties, but the bulk of Athos' attention was taken up by his first officer, sitting at the other end of the table and side on to where Athos was seated across the room. 

Porthos wore that uniform like he'd been poured into it, and Athos had to cross his legs under the table. 

Don't be stupid, he thought, watching Porthos blatantly flirting with all the female guests around him. Just because he was nice to you doesn't mean he's interested. It's his job. He's probably forgotten you exist. 

Despite this stern mental talking to, Athos half-hoped Porthos would glance this way and notice him, but Porthos' attention remained firmly on the passengers he was sitting with. Occasionally his laugh was audible above the general hubbub of the room, and Athos found he was draining his glass every time.

"Are you coming on the trip tomorrow?" Constance asked him.

"What trip?" Athos asked, dragging his attention back to her with a frown. Everything was getting a little fuzzy. 

"To shore, silly. The boats start from ten." She filled up his glass again. "I want one of those drinks with an umbrella in it."

"She's all about the culture," d'Artagnan smirked, and ducked out of the way of the ensuing slap with an admirable dexterity given the amount they'd all drunk. "I want to buy a hat," he added vaguely. 

"I was thinking I'd probably stay on board," Athos said, remembering how determined he'd been not to enjoy himself.

"What! You can't, it's the first proper adventure. It's the _Bahamas_ ," Constance insisted. "Right, you're coming with us. Meet us here for breakfast at nine, we're all going ashore," she said firmly. 

Athos was too drunk to object, and in any case was watching Porthos be fed fruit salad by a matronly looking woman in a red dress. "Yeah," he said vaguely. "Okay."

\--

It wasn't until Athos stood up that it really hit him how much he'd drunk. Glass by glass, and sharing with the others it hadn't really been noticeable, but must have been most of a bottle, and that was on top of the bottle he'd had earlier.

Athos muttered his goodbyes and managed to make his way out of the restaurant without falling into anyone's table, which by that point felt like quite an achievement. He headed back to his cabin, feeling suddenly in need of a lie down in a darkened room. 

Ten minutes later he was forced to admit with a sinking heart that he must have somehow taken a wrong turning. It had been five minutes at most to get to the restaurant, so he must have gone off course.

Athos turned around, trying to backtrack and ended up getting more lost than ever. He found himself in a hallway he swore he'd never seen before with a different coloured carpet, and when he came to a staircase went down it with the vague idea his cabin was on a lower deck.

Somehow at the bottom he lost his footing. Reactions dulled by the wine, he grabbed for the rail and missed, slithering down the last few steps and ending up in an ungainly heap on the floor, winded and startled.

"Oops a daisy!" 

Athos realised a pair of polished shoes had entered his field of vision, and peered upwards to discover Porthos peering down at him.

"You alright down there?" Porthos offered him a hand, but Athos grabbed the banister and hauled himself upright, flushing red. 

"Not used to life at sea," Athos muttered. "Must be getting rough out there."

Porthos looked him over and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, rough's the word," he muttered. "Come on, let's get you safely home eh? Where's your cabin?"

"I wish I knew," Athos sighed mournfully, and Porthos broke into an amused smile.

"No, I meant what number is it?"

"Oh." Athos pulled out the much abused deck plan that he'd carefully scrawled the number on, and handed it over. Maybe it had got wet, he thought, the number seemed blurrier than he remembered.

"Right, okay then." Porthos glanced at it and nodded. "Back up we go." He shepherded Athos back up the steps and after a minimum of twists and turns, to Athos' surprise they were suddenly outside his cabin.

"How did you do that?" he asked in astonishment.

"Witchcraft," Porthos said solemnly, and Athos gave him a look. He laughed. "Oh alright, look, the first part of your cabin number is also the deck number. It's printed on all the bulkheads."

"Is it?" Athos gave him a wide eyed look, and then coughed. "I knew that," he muttered. He dragged out his key and opened the door.

"Um. Thanks for rescuing me," he said, conscious that Porthos was still standing there. "It all takes a bit of getting used to."

"You'll get the hang of it. At least you came out, eh?"

"Excuse me?" Athos stared at him, for a confused moment thinking this was some allusion to his earlier conversation with Constance.

"Of your cabin," Porthos explained. "Seem to remember you were threatening to spend the whole trip shut up in it."

"Oh. Right. Yes." Athos felt silly. "Well, I guess that would have been cutting my nose off to spite my face."

"You, er - going to be alright then?" Porthos asked, and Athos frowned.

"Yeah. Course. Why shouldn't I be?"

"Well, it's just - you are holding on quite tightly to that doorframe," Porthos pointed out, sounding like he was trying not to laugh.

"I told you, it's the movement of the ship. I'm not used to the ground feeling like it's moving under my feet."

"Sure about that are you?" Porthos muttered, and Athos glared at him, affronted by the implication.

"Fuck you!" he blurted, the ability to come up with anything pithier having temporarily deserted him, and he slammed the door shut in Porthos' face.

Inside, once the flare of temper had died away Athos immediately regretted his actions. Hadn't he spent half the evening idly fantasising about getting Porthos out of that uniform? And he'd been right here, practically asking if Athos needed helping into bed.

He pulled the door open again and stuck his head into the hallway, but Porthos had gone.

Sighing, Athos went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and stared accusingly at his reflection in the glass.

"You," he told himself sternly, "are the reason we can't have nice things."

\--


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Athos woke with a gluey mouth and a queasy feeling of gloom. The last thing he wanted to do was go and drag round a tourist-filled island, however picture-postcard the views, and he was mostly inclined to roll over and go back to sleep. 

Reaching out for his watch though, Athos discovered that it was already nine o'clock and sat up, groaning guiltily. He'd fallen into bed as soon as he'd returned to his cabin, which hadn't been much past half ten. He must have been more tired than he thought. Maybe Treville had been right, and months of working without a break was finally catching up with him.

He crawled out of bed and stood under the shower until he felt marginally more human. Years of social conditioning meant he felt too uncomfortable just not showing up, however nebulous the arrangement with d'Artagnan and Constance had been, and by half nine he was walking into the restaurant, fully intending to tell them he'd changed his mind and wasn't coming.

Having looked all round the room twice Athos was finally forced to the conclusion that they weren't there, and had presumably left without him. Feeling relieved, he helped himself to a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and slumped down at a table in a shady corner.

By the time he'd drunk it he was feeling slightly better and rather than retreating back to bed as he'd planned, Athos fetched a cup of black coffee and an apricot danish. As he was retaking his seat, to his surprise he saw d'Artagnan and Constance walking into the room, and had automatically given them a wave before his head caught up with his hand.

They came over to join him, and Constance lowered herself very gingerly into one of the chairs, her expression hidden behind dark glasses.

"Morning," said Athos. "You alright?"

Constance groaned slightly. "Jeez, I don't think I've ever drunk so much with a meal before. It's all your fault," she scolded teasingly, wagging a finger at Athos. "You're a bad influence."

"Do you want anything?" d'Artagnan asked her, and she shook her head.

"Just tea. Nothing to eat. Well, maybe a slice of toast. Just butter." She caught sight of Athos' danish. "Ooh, and one of those."

"Sorry we're late. Have you been waiting long?" Constance asked Athos, as d'Artagnan went in search of breakfast for them.

"No, not at all. I was late down myself," he admitted, thinking that if he was less hungover than Constance on at least a bottle more, then he wasn't doing too badly. And he was choosing to blame most of his own hangover on the fact he'd been drinking in the hot sun than the actual amount. In fact, if he was feeling particularly contrary, he could blame it on Porthos and his unsolicited bottle of wine.

Athos glanced round the room again and sighed. He'd half hoped Porthos would appear at breakfast so he could apologise for his behaviour last night, but there'd been no sign of him. Presumably he was busy doing whatever it was first officers did, other than swanking around in obscenely well fitting uniforms.

Belatedly tuning back in to what Constance was saying, Athos realised she'd been outlining their itinerary for the day, and that he'd missed his window for bowing out gracefully.

"Um. I thought I'd maybe actually stay on board," he ventured, but Constance wasn't having any of it.

"Don't be such a silly! You'll enjoy it when you're there. You come with us, and you'll look back on it and be glad you did."

Returning with a laden tray, D'Artagnan shot him a look of mingled amusement and sympathy but didn't interfere. Athos had the horrible feeling he'd been taken under their wing. 

\--

Once ashore, Athos managed to give them the slip within the first ten minutes. He felt vaguely guilty about it, but not enough to spend the day being told where to go and what to do.

He wandered though the marketplace, which seemed to be ninety percent tourist tat. Constance had been talking excitedly about buying souvenirs for her nephews, and walking between the stalls it dawned on Athos that he didn't have anyone to buy for. He had no family, no partner. Not even that many close friends, certainly not the sort that would want a novelty wicker donkey or a lacquered conch shell. Not that anyone would, really. Maybe he'd take Treville something, Athos thought. He'd find him the most hideous souvenir going, then oblige the man to keep it on his desk as revenge. 

Not being the type to be able to while away time simply lying on a beach, Athos spent most of their few hours ashore exploring. He started to wish he'd brought a camera, although he wasn't entirely sure who he was going to show the pictures to. Maybe he could buy a disposable one on board.

In the end he returned to the harbour with very little to show for his ramblings. He'd bought some lunch, but the only proper purchase he'd made was a hat to keep off the sun, and as he walked down to the jetty where the boats were waiting to take them back out to the cruise liner, he saw with a spike of annoyance that d'Artagnan had bought exactly the same hat.

Constance thought this was hilarious, which fortunately deflected any lingering annoyance she might have felt at Athos' abrupt departure that morning. In turn, Athos got a certain amount of unexpected satisfaction from the fact that halfway back to the liner, bumping over the waves at high speed on the zodiac boat d'Artagnan's hat blew off in the wind and was immediately lost overboard.

"My hat!" D'Artagnan tried to jump to his feet and was immediately pushed down again by Constance. "But I've lost my hat! Make them turn around!"

Having a high number of these trips to make within a limited period to get everyone back, the man at the controls gave no indication of even hearing d'Artagnan's continued protests, and held course.

Spluttering and complaining, d'Artagnan grumbled all the way back. He'd been pleased with his hat, feeling it made him look distinguished, and secretly wondering if he could pull off the kind of crumpled linen suit that Athos was wearing.

Back on board, as they parted ways Athos took off his new hat and offered it to d'Artagnan.

"Here. Have mine."

Having spent a good twenty minutes bemoaning the loss of his own, d'Artagnan nevertheless looked taken aback.

"Oh! I - no, I couldn't possibly."

"Please," Athos insisted. "I'd only feel guilty every time I saw you. Take it, it's yours." They had after all been kind to him in offering their company, and he was glad to be able to offer something in thanks, however small.

D'Artagnan gave in, accepting it with an embarrassed gratitude and Constance beamed at Athos approvingly.

"You will join us for dinner later, won't you?" she insisted.

"I, er, yes, alright. Thank you." Athos sighed inwardly, but accepted his fate. It _was_ better than eating alone, and they were cheerful enough company. 

This time Athos managed to find his way back to his cabin on the first try, and wondered how tragic it was to be feeling quite so pleased with himself.

Letting himself in, his eye was immediately drawn to a stiff piece of folded card propped up on the table. On the front was printed his name, and Athos picked it up and read the neat calligraphy inside. 

_You are cordially invited to dine tonight at the Captain's table._

Athos stared at the invitation in some surprise. His first instinct was to decline, having no desire to make awkward small talk with a bunch of strangers all evening, but the way the card was worded seemed to assume he would accept and gave no avenue for him to indicate otherwise.

Constance had appeared to think it was an honour to be invited, so he presumed people rarely said no. Given that it now meant he'd be unable to join her and d'Artagnan for dinner, Athos hoped her opinion on this would hold true and not lead to any awkward jealousy. He'd be more than happy for her to take his place, but the seat didn't seem to be transferable.

On the plus side, Athos conceded it would at least give him an opportunity to apologise to Porthos for his behaviour, assuming he was there again tonight. The thought of Porthos raised his spirits somewhat, and as he went to take a shower, Athos realised that suddenly he was looking forward to it rather more than he had been at first.

Washed and brushed and in his smartest suit, Athos was taking the now familiar route to the dining room when he bumped into Constance and d'Artagnan going the same way. His first impression was that they were both dressed considerably more smartly than usual, then caught sight of a square of white card sticking out of Constance's clutch-purse.

"Snap," he said, and waved his own invitation like a talisman, having brought it along just in case. 

"Oh thank God," Constance said with a sigh of relief. Athos looked confused and d'Artagnan smirked.

"She's spent the last half hour trying to work out a polite way of saying she was ditching you for the evening," d'Artagnan explained, ignoring the glare this earned him.

Athos smiled. "Contrary to popular opinion I am capable of taking care of myself you know. But anyway, we seem to have been similarly blessed. Or cursed. The jury's still out."

"It'll be fabulous," Constance declared firmly. "Come on, let's not keep them waiting." She slipped an arm though each of theirs, and marched them into the dining room.

A few people were already seated at the top table, but they weren't the last to arrive and Athos saw that each place setting had a name card. To Constance's delight, she and d'Artagnan were up near the captain himself, while Athos discovered he was down the other end. 

The seating arrangement seemed to have been devised according to, in Athos' eyes at least, a rather old fashioned boy-girl-boy-girl formula, and the name card for the still empty seat to his right read 'Mrs Alice Clerbeaux'. The seat beyond that however, side-on at the end of the table, was already occupied and by a familiar face.

Porthos half rose as Athos took his seat, and to Athos' relief smiled at him.

"I owe you an apology," Porthos murmured, and Athos' eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You owe - " He broke off with a short laugh. "I'm fairly sure you just stole my line."

Porthos shook his head. "What I said last night - what I implied - it was rude."

"Not as rude as swearing at someone and slamming a door in their face," Athos pointed out repentantly.

"You were tired," Porthos said generously, and Athos snorted.

"Mmmn. Tired off my face maybe."

Porthos hid a smile. "You're here to have a good time. Hardly appropriate for me to be casting aspersions. I hope you'll accept my apology."

"If you'll accept mine?" Athos offered, and they smiled at each other. 

"You must have to deal with some right arseholes in this job?" Athos said, hoping privately that he didn't fall into that category himself.

Porthos laughed. "I couldn't possibly comment."

"Hang on," Athos said as a thought occurred to him. "How long have you been doing this job? You told me you'd never flown before?"

"I hadn't." Porthos shook his head. "Up till now I worked the Mediterranean circuit. But then someone left at short notice and they asked me if I'd like to fill in. Well, it was a no-brainer wasn't it?"

"Lucky break," Athos agreed. "So this is your inaugural cruise on this route?"

"Yeah." Porthos grinned. "I'm a Caribbean virgin."

"Now that's a hell of a sentence to come in on." A woman Athos had never seen before took the seat between them and smiled at Porthos, who laughed.

"There is context, I promise. Porthos du Vallon, First Officer, pleased to meet you."

"Alice Clerbeaux. Likewise." She turned to Athos who'd been glaring at the back of her head, and he hurriedly looked down as she caught him at it. "Hello. I'm Alice."

"Yes you said." Athos winced inwardly at how rude he was sounding. "Athos."

"Pleased to meet you." Alice sounded rather more dubious about that, but she gamely kept the smile plastered on. 

"Alice is here on her own as well," Porthos told him, and Athos looked up with a frown.

"Oh. I hadn't realised you'd already met."

"We haven't. But we like to use this captain's table malarkey as a forum for some of the passengers travelling alone to get to know each other."

"There's no Mr Clerbeaux then?" Athos asked, noting the 'Mrs' on her place card and then wondering exactly when he'd turned into Constance. 

"I lost him last year."

"That was careless." Athos spoke without really thinking, and only then realised she probably meant he'd died and felt guilty. He hoped Porthos would distract her, but Porthos seemed to be busy having a coughing fit behind his napkin.

Alice gave Athos a hard look, but there was a certain amount of amusement behind it. "And you Athos," she said brightly. "You're travelling alone as well?"

"Yes," Athos said shortly. "Apparently I'm just unlovable to begin with."

Alice looked taken aback and turned to Porthos in the hope of more congenial conversation. The food arrived and Athos dug in gloomily. He'd been hoping to talk to Porthos himself, but Porthos seemed more than entranced with the lovely Alice, and their laughter made it hard to swallow. Athos washed down a mouthful with wine and topped up his glass again.

By the dessert course he'd drunk enough to be feeling if not more cheerful then at least comfortably numb. He'd fallen into conversation with the elderly man opposite him who'd turned out to be a retired planning officer, and they'd held a lengthy discussion about property development which everyone around them seemed to find deeply tedious and made no attempt to join in with.

As the meal ended and people started drifting away from the table, Athos took his chance to leave and got up without even glancing at Porthos and Alice, who still seemed to be deep in conversation anyway. 

Deciding he needed another drink, and something stronger than wine, Athos went into the adjacent bar and ordered a double scotch.

The plate glass windows opened onto a balcony and Athos wandered out to lean on the rail. The air was warm and the sky still held a hint of orange light, and he sighed.

"That was a big sigh." 

Athos looked sideways and was considerably surprised to find Porthos had joined him at the rail.

"Shouldn't you be talking to Alice?" he said waspishly. "You seemed to be getting on like a house on fire."

"Well someone had to talk to her didn't they? I mean you sure as shit weren't!" As soon as the words were out Porthos looked like he could have bitten off his tongue. "Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Athos frowned at him. "I wish you'd stop doing that."

"What, being rude to you?"

"No, apologising all the time. Have the courage of your convictions man."

Porthos gave him an exasperated smile. "I have to be nice to the passengers. It's my job. If I said what I thought I'd be fired within a week. There's just something about you, that - "

"That what?" Athos prompted curiously.

Porthos sighed. "Makes me speak without thinking."

"Oh." Athos leaned back against the rail and studied him. "Well, you have my permission to be as blunt as you like to me. I shan't mind."

Porthos took a deep breath. "Alright then. Why were you so rude to Alice?"

"I wasn't." Athos frowned. "Was I?"

"You ignored her all evening!" Porthos protested. "I thought you might get on, that's why I put you together in the first place."

"Not my type," Athos said flatly.

Porthos was looking more annoyed with him by the second. "Pretty, rich, widowed, what's not to like?" he joked, trying to lighten Athos up a little.

"She was more interested in you anyway." Athos frowned. "Hang on, are you saying you did the seating plan?"

"Yeah." Porthos looked shifty. "What about it?"

"Were you trying to set me up with her?" Athos asked incredulously. "Christ, you should have been sat with Constance, you'd have got on like a house on fire," he muttered. He could see Constance across the bar in fact, deep in animated conversation with a rather jug-eared petty officer. D'Artagnan seemed to be holding her drink, or perhaps he just needed two to get him through the evening, Athos thought. He knew the feeling.

"I just thought two people travelling alone might like some company," Porthos said defensively.

"Why is everyone so determined to force company on me?" Athos demanded. "Do I really look that tragically lonely?"

Porthos looked at him. "Maybe other people want your company. Had you considered that?"

Athos snorted. "Alice didn't. Which brings me back to my first question, shouldn't you be talking to her instead? I'm sure her conversation is much more stimulating than mine."

Porthos hesitated. "Not really my type either to be honest."

Surprised, Athos stared at him. "You were flirting for all you were worth!"

"Part of the job, isn't it?" Porthos said uncomfortably. "Make sure the passengers enjoy themselves. Little light flirting, practically in the job description. You know what it's like."

"No I don't," Athos said. "Mostly you've just been rude and annoying to me. When's it my turn for the light flirting? Let me know, 'cause I'd hate to miss it."

Taken by surprise, Porthos spluttered with laughter. When he'd mastered himself, he noticed someone hovering in the doorway and nudged Athos. "I think your friend wants you."

Athos looked round to discover Constance was trying to get his attention. Catching his eye she pointed through the glass doors at the petty officer she'd been talking to earlier and hissed in a stage whisper. "He's single."

Athos gave her an open handed shrug, not entirely sure how this was relevant given that she was married. 

"And gay," Constance added in a loud hiss, nodding meaningfully and giving him an encouraging thumbs up, followed by an incomprehensible mime that Athos really really hoped wasn't meant to represent hanging onto someone's ears.

"And, now I want to die," he muttered with a sigh as she disappeared inside again.

Porthos was staring at him with an odd expression on his face, and Athos frowned. "What?"

"You're gay?"

Athos stiffened uncomfortably. "Yes. Problem?"

"No. No!" Porthos looked alarmed at the thought he might have insulted Athos once again. "I just - Christ." He sighed. "Do you ever do that thing where you go over and over a conversation in your head trying to work out where it all went wrong?"

"Frequently," said Athos with a wry smile. "Except I generally know where it went wrong, it's usually the point where I opened my mouth."

Porthos gave a hoarse laugh. "Last night - you suddenly went all cold and 'orrible and I couldn't for the life of me work out what I'd said. But - that crack about you coming out of your cabin - I mean - I didn't know. I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know." Athos finished his drink and gave Porthos a rueful smile. "Too touchy for my own good sometimes. Especially when I'm - well. Tired."

Porthos gave a quiet laugh. "Yeah, well. Sorry."

"Thought I told you to stop apologising?" Athos reminded him. "I don't think I've ever met someone who needs to apologise more often than me," he added, and Porthos smiled.

"New boy on this boat, aren't I?" he said. "One complaint from a passenger and my first circuit could be my last."

"You have my word my lips are sealed," Athos promised with a smile. "However rude you are to me." He set down his empty glass and thrust his hands in his pockets. "I think I'll turn in. Night Porthos."

"Yeah. Night then."

When Athos reached the door of the bar he looked back, but Porthos was heading across the floor towards Alice. A little light flirting, he thought. Was that all it was? What had Porthos meant about her not being his type? Had he meant the same thing as Athos? It was a nice idea. 

It occurred to him that if you followed the d'Artagnan and Constance method, that constant bickering could also fall into the category of flirting. Was that what he and Porthos had been doing? But no, Porthos hadn't known he was gay. He was just being nice and doing his job, and Athos was just another passenger.

\-- 

The ship spent another couple of days nosing slowly through the Bahamas with a variety of optional trips available, all of which Athos politely declined. As Constance insisted on showing him all the photographs she'd taken he felt rather like he'd been on them anyway.

Athos had discovered another bar, smaller and tucked away, with leather seats and fake wood panelling. He'd bought a couple of new books in the gift shop and spent hours happily ensconced there. If he turned his head he could see Nassau out the window, and felt that was quite sufficient.

In a bid to avoid a second night of having to look at two hundred blurry shots of d'Artagnan posing in front of views of steeply varying interest, as the ship left the Bahamas behind and set sail for Jamaica Athos stayed firmly in his hideaway and ordered a club sandwich from the bar menu instead of going up to the restaurant.

He was halfway through it when a shadow fell over his table, and Athos looked up to find Porthos grinning down at him.

"I wondered where you'd got to."

"I like it in here," Athos said. "Nobody bothers me."

Porthos' smile faded a little. "Sorry, I'll leave you in peace."

"No!" Athos sat up, blushing at the way he'd yelped that. "I meant - I didn't mean you. I just meant nobody's telling me I should be going on excursions and being a good little tourist."

"How do you know that's not what I'm going to do?" Porthos asked, sitting down in the chair Athos waved him into.

"You've got to be nice to me remember?" Athos smirked. "I'm a passenger." 

"So you are." The grin was back, and Athos felt his blush getting fiercer. 

"Would you like a drink?" he offered, to cover his confusion.

"Better not, I'm still on duty," Porthos told him.

"At this time?" Athos looked at his watch. "Shouldn't you be entertaining the rich widows round about now?"

"Varies," Porthos said. "I'm on a late shift tonight and tomorrow."

"Shouldn't you be driving the ship or something then?" Athos smirked.

"We're not quite that short staffed," laughed Porthos. "I'm just doing the rounds. Making sure the troublemakers behave themselves, that sort of thing."

Athos smiled. The thought that Porthos might have actively sought him out was a pleasant one, and he felt oddly flattered. 

"So, er - you going on any of the trips when we reach Jamaica?" Porthos asked.

"Hadn't decided. Suppose I should at least show willing," Athos conceded. "Do I get brownie points for making like a proper tourist?"

Porthos gave a self-conscious laugh. "It's just - well, I'm leading one of the groups tomorrow," he said. "My first off this boat. Be nice to see a friendly face?"

Athos looked him in surprise, both that someone like Porthos should need the reassurance and that his company was deemed suitably reassuring.

"Not sure it speaks well for the rest of the people on this tub if mine's the friendliest face," he teased. To his surprise Porthos seemed to consider the comment seriously.

"Everyone's nice enough." Porthos concluded after a moment's reflection. "It's just - they're an established crew, you know? They all know each other. And here's me, jetting in from Europe, taking the place of someone they all knew and liked." 

Porthos seemed to realise this sounded a bit forlorn, and cleared his throat. "I'm not saying they've not been welcoming. Just - everyone's got their established friendship groups already?" He winced, and rubbed his face. "Christ, that sounds pathetic. Like I'm the new boy at school or something."

"But that's how it feels?" Athos guessed.

"Yeah. Bit." Porthos gave him a sheepish grin, and Athos refilled his wineglass and handed it to Porthos with a wink.

"I won't tell if you won't."

\--

The weather was hot and uncomfortably close, even in the shade of the sugar mill. It had been a long uphill walk to reach the old plantation house and even the free rum tasters being liberally handed out weren't enough to make Athos enjoy the tour. He'd have sloped off to sit under a tree an hour ago if he didn't feel vaguely obliged to stick it out for Porthos' sake.

"It'll be educational!" Porthos had promised cheerfully as they'd set out that morning, but Athos had noticed it had been a long time since Porthos had so much as raised a smile. Stuck with leading the group on the full tour, Porthos couldn't bail and so neither did Athos, trailing along at the back prickling with discomfort. It wasn't so much at the horrors of the history they were seeing, but at the way nobody else seemed to feel it. For most of the party it was a day out with free drinks, and little more. A sideshow to fill the time until the next buffet. 

Most of the cruise passengers were European with a smattering of Americans, and for the first time it dawned on Athos that with the exception of Porthos all the people in this particular group were white. He wasn't sure why that bothered him but it did. Colonial guilt, he wondered?

One of the Americans had found a set of iron manacles bolted to the back wall of the sugar press room, and jangled them triumphantly. "Few more businesses these days could do with this kind of work ethic. Build the economy up again in no time!"

Nobody contradicted him and there was even a smattering of awkward laughter. Torn between the desire to say something cutting and his ingrained reluctance to involve himself, Athos noticed Porthos suddenly break away from the group and hurry out of the door.

He followed him outside. There was a wooden veranda that looked down over a steeply wooded valley to the sea, and Porthos was leaning on the rail, breathing heavily. Athos went over to join him, leaning silently next to him.

"You know," Athos murmured after a while. "I'm sure nobody would notice if we came back to the ship one passenger short. We could probably leave him manacled somewhere, if he's so fond of them."

Porthos ducked his head and gave a huff of tired laughter. "Pity I'm responsible for getting everyone back safely," he said. "But it's a nice idea."

Athos looked sideways at him. "You okay?" he asked quietly. 

"Yeah." Porthos blew out a sigh. "It's just - part of my heritage I've never really thought about that deeply before, you know? You're sort of aware of what went on, in an abstract sense, but I've always thought of myself as French before anything else." He stared down the valley, following a flock of brightly coloured parakeets with his eyes. "Not exactly something I had to face, on the Med circuit," he murmured. "It's all Greek temples and shit, not mass murder and slavery."

"I think you'll find there was plenty of mass murder and slavery in the ancient world," Athos said automatically, then winced. "None of which is relevant to this conversation, and I'm shutting up now. Shouldn't we be getting back?"

Porthos glanced at him and managed a smile. "I'd have thought this was the sort of tourist attraction that'd be right up your street."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Athos asked, affronted. 

"Bloody depressing."

Athos stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. "Yeah, okay. One for my list of disastrous trips. What's tomorrow, plague pits? Mutiny? Massacres?"

"There's a monument down on the quay where they used to hang the pirates?" Porthos suggested, and there was a glimmer of life back in his smile.

"Sounds the perfect spot for a selfie," Athos agreed with a laugh. "I'd be willing to bet Constance and d'Artagnan have found it already." 

The group were starting to file back out into the sunshine, and he'd turned to rejoin them when Porthos called him back.

"Athos? Thanks."

"What for?" 

Porthos hesitated. "Coming after me," he said quietly. 

Athos nodded, then on impulse reached out to pat Porthos' arm. "Come on," he said. "There's a tray of rum shots with our name on it down there, and don't give me any bollocks about being on duty."

\--


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Athos' best efforts Porthos declined the offer of a drink, but he seemed in better spirits as they made their way back to the harbour. A second group was already waiting there for the boats that would take them back on board, and amongst them Constance and d'Artagnan. 

True to form, Constance had her camera out and was snapping away at everything, including Athos and Porthos as they came towards her.

Porthos automatically grinned for the camera at the same time Athos flinched and turned away, and Constance laughed at him.

"Come on Athos, say cheese you miserable sod - hey!" This last was at a man who'd barged past her in the crowd and made a grab for the camera she'd been holding up.

The strap was looped round her wrist which foxed him for a second, and in the moment of confusion Constance shoved him backwards. "Get off me!"

In the next second there was suddenly somehow a knife in his hand, and the crowd gave a collective gasp. Constance's instinctive reaction was to swing the heavy camera at his head, and he ducked back, then lunged at her angrily.

"Oi!" Porthos hurled himself between them, bodily preventing the would-be mugger from touching her and making a grab for the knife. There was a slash, and a bellow of pain from Porthos, and suddenly all Athos could see was red blood soaking through the pristine white jacket of his uniform.

The attacker had his back to Athos, and without thinking he picked up a wine bottle from the cafe table next to him and brought it down on the man's head.

Part of him had expected it to smash, but instead it just connected with a sickening thud and the man dropped to the cobblestones without a sound and lay still. 

It seemed to Athos there was a second of utter silence, then sound came back in a sudden burst that made him flinch, as everyone started talking at once. Two policemen ran up demanding to know what had happened, and d'Artagnan intercepted them neatly, relating indignantly how the man had tried to rob his wife.

Athos put the bottle back on the table and staggered away, feeling sick. He suddenly remembered Porthos and looked for him. Constance had got there first, and was making him sit down in one of the wicker cafe chairs.

Porthos was clutching his arm, but was in a lot better shape than the man lying in the street. The policemen seemed to be shouting at him, but Athos didn't dare look to see if he was moving yet. Was he dead? What had he done?

"Let me look," Constance was insisting to Porthos. "I'm a nurse. Stop fussing and let me see."

"I'm fine. It's just a scratch." Porthos looked round in turn for Athos, but he'd disappeared into the crowd.

\--

As soon as Athos made it back to his cabin he locked the door and sank onto the bed with his head in his hands. He'd hung around long enough to be satisfied that Porthos was going to be alright and that the man he'd knocked out wasn't actually dead, then fled back to the cruise ship in a water taxi with a group of strangers. He didn't want to talk about what had happened, and wasn't sure there wouldn't still be repercussions for him. 

He needed a drink, but the rum he'd had earlier was lying heavy and sour in his stomach, and Athos suspected any more right now would be a bad idea. After about an hour he noticed a police boat speeding up towards the ship and paced the cabin fretfully, wondering what was happening. Would he be arrested? He had no idea how badly the man had been hurt. He could still feel the shocking sensation of bottle meeting head, and shuddered.

Another hour crawled by, and another. He didn't see the police boat leave again, but nobody came knocking on his door. Maybe it would be alright. The man had been a thief, after all.

 _And that makes it okay does it?_ asked a nasty little voice in his head. _That's one step away from manacles._

Jesus, he could just see that one in the press. White tourist bludgeons destitute Jamaican to death over camera. 

Outside the sun sank into the ocean in a blaze of gold, but Athos was in no mood to contemplate the beauty of it. He realised he hadn't eaten since breakfast and should probably have some supper, but the thought of eating turned his stomach and the concept of walking into the restaurant even more so. 

Knowing that the lack of food was probably making him feel worse all by itself, he made himself order a chicken sandwich, adding a request for a bottle of white wine at the last minute, figuring he'd need something to wash it down with.

Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door and he nearly jumped out of his skin before realising it was only his supper arriving. Probably. It might still be the police, his brain told him, and he yanked the door open with gritted teeth.

To his relief there was a trolley outside the door, but it took a second for him to register who it was being pushed by.

"Porthos!" Athos stared at him in mingled relief and confusion. "Thought you weren't short-staffed?" he heard himself say, and Porthos grinned at him. 

"Forgive me. I passed the waiter in the hall and recognised the cabin number on the trolley. I was coming down here anyway, but I figured this'd give me more of an excuse."

"You were coming to see me?" The warm feeling this engendered was tempered by nerves at what it might be about. Athos suddenly realised he was blocking the doorway and stepped back hurriedly. "Sorry, come in."

Porthos pushed the trolley inside and closed the door behind him, peering more closely at Athos. 

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I - " Athos faltered. "Am I in trouble?" he blurted. 

Porthos looked startled. "No - no, of course not. Athos, I wouldn't let that happen, you can't think I would?"

"I saw the police boat," Athos said faintly. 

"They wanted to interview me," Porthos said. "Just routine questions really, your name didn't even come up. Athos, God, have you been worrying about this?" 

Athos nodded weakly, feeling sick with relief. 

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry, I should have come before, I didn't think." Porthos was staring at him in mortification. 

"Is he alright?" Athos asked faintly. "The man I - that I hit?"

"Bit of a headache I'm guessing," Porthos shrugged. “Nothing a week in the cells won't fix. They take their tourist trade pretty seriously round here. I got the impression they were going to come down on him like a ton of bricks. Figuratively speaking this time," he added with a grin.

Athos passed a hand over his face, feeling dizzy, and suddenly felt Porthos' hand on his shoulder. 

"Here, are you alright, you've gone all pale? Christ, you really have been worrying about this?"

Athos gave him a shaky smile. "I thought they might lock me up and throw away the key," he admitted, feeling silly as he said it. "For a moment there - I thought I'd killed him."

"Oh Athos. Oh sweetheart, no, he's fine." Porthos instinctively pulled Athos into a hug, and squeezed him comfortingly tight. "Jesus, you're shaking."

"It's relief," Athos mumbled, face buried in Porthos' reassuringly solid shoulder. He suddenly remembered the cause of all this, and pulled back looked embarrassed. "Sorry." He cleared his throat. "Um, how's your arm?"

Porthos flexed his shoulder, and Athos noticed the slight padded bulge of a bandage under his jacket. 

"Bit sore, but I'll live. Just a scratch really. Thanks to you." Porthos smiled at him. "You were amazing."

Athos looked surprised. He'd been so worried about the outcome of what he'd done that he'd almost forgotten that it had been in Porthos' defence. 

"I've never hit anyone before," he confessed. "It was horrible."

"Then I'm doubly impressed," said Porthos warmly. "Here, don't let me keep you from your dinner, it'll go cold."

"It's only a sandwich," Athos said. "I wasn't really hungry."

"I missed you in the dining room," Porthos admitted. "I wanted to make sure you were okay, so I thought I'd come down." He sighed. "I wish I'd come earlier now."

"It's alright. I'm glad to see you now though." Athos sank into a chair, realising he was suddenly ravenous. "Would you like a sandwich?" he offered, uncovering the plate and pushing it forwards. "Or some wine?"

"I'm still on shift," Porthos told him, and Athos blinked. 

"You get stabbed and they make you finish your shift?"

"Life on the ocean wave for you," Porthos grinned. "At least it beats rum, sodomy and the lash. Well, the lash, anyway."

Athos couldn't help laughing at that and Porthos smiled, relieved he was looking happier. 

"I could have a soft drink?" he suggested, and Athos nodded hastily. 

"Help yourself. My mini-bar is at your disposal."

Porthos took out a can of coke and sat in the chair next to Athos, accepting half a sandwich with a grateful nod. 

"I'm not keeping you from anything important am I?" Athos asked, mouth full of chicken. 

Porthos shook his head. "Like you say, I got knifed in the course of duty and no time off. Fuck 'em. They need me, they can page me." 

When Athos had finished eating they moved to sit together on the sofa, Athos carrying the bottle of wine.

"So what time do you get off?" he asked Porthos, who looked at his watch and smiled.

"Actually, ten minutes ago."

"So you could have a proper drink?"

Porthos laughed. "I guess I could." He let Athos fill a glass for him, and raised it in a toast. "To my hero."

Athos snorted. "Stop taking the piss."

"I'm not! You saved my life," Porthos declared delightedly, taking a drink and watching Athos over the rim of the glass.

"Yeah, right. He had a tiny knife and you were twice the size of him. I probably just made things worse."

"It's the thought that counts," Porthos said happily. "And the thought that you were moved to rescue me counts for a lot."

Athos squirmed, topping up his own glass and avoiding Porthos' eye.

"Hey, it's a good thing Constance turned out to be a nurse, wasn't it?" Porthos said, taking pity on him and changing the subject a little. 

"Mmmn." Athos gave him an odd smile and buried his face in his glass again. Porthos frowned. 

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Athos, what aren't you telling me?"

Athos, despite his best efforts couldn't stop the smile creeping across his face. "She's a veterinary nurse," he admitted.

Porthos stared at him in consternation for a moment, then burst out laughing. After a second Athos joined him and they leaned against each other weakly, shaking with laughter.

"Fuck." Porthos took a mouthful of wine and set the glass down on the table. "Now I feel like a dog with an injured paw."

"At least you didn't get a collar of shame," Athos pointed out, and Porthos started laughing again. It ended with a stifled yawn, and Athos felt guilty.

"Sorry, am I keeping you from your bed? You've had a hell of a day."

Porthos shook his head, and gave Athos a look that was softly considering.

"There's no place I'd rather be than here right now," he said quietly.

Pleased and surprised, Athos met his gaze and after a moment Porthos slowly leaned in towards him, his intention clear. He hesitated a whisper away from Athos' mouth, searching his face for confirmation this was okay. 

He obviously found it, because a second later his lips brushed Athos' in the gentlest of exploratory kisses, pressing a little more firmly when Athos didn't object, before pulling back to look at him.

Athos realised he'd been holding his breath and let it out in a rush, staring at Porthos in rather stunned hope. Porthos' eyes crinkled in a smile and he leaned in again. This time the kiss was bolder and Athos went with it, parting his lips and feeling the flicker of Porthos' tongue against the tip of his own.

Suddenly there was nothing tentative about it any more and they were kissing each other with a heated passion that had Athos hard in seconds. Porthos put his arms round him and Athos cradled Porthos' face in his hands, his eager kisses being returned hungrily.

When the first frenzy of desperate kissing had been satisfied they pulled back and looked at each other, laughing quietly in vague embarrassment. 

Athos had a slight frown creasing his forehead, although he was smiling, and Porthos traced the edge of his little finger down his face. "Is this okay?" he whispered.

"Yes." Athos nodded, still sounding breathless. "God yes. I just - why me?"

It was Porthos' turn to frown, and he laughed. "What do you mean?" He pulled Athos against him and kissed him again, as if to dispel any doubts that this was very much what and who he wanted.

"Well." Athos ducked his head, flushing slightly. "You could probably have anyone you wanted on this ship."

"I have. He's right here." Porthos kissed him again. "And if you must know, I've wanted to do this since the first minute I set eyes on you."

"You have?" Athos sounded surprised and disbelieving, and Porthos grinned. 

"Yeah. What, you think it was an accident I joined your table in that airport? I saw you sitting there, and I thought you were hot. And I thought - nothing ventured nothing gained, right? So I went over when you got up." Porthos smirked at him. "And then you turned out to be a grumpy git, but you were pretty and you had a fucking sexy voice, so I figured what the hell, you can't have everything. I mean, it was a coincidence we were sat together on the plane. Or fate," Porthos added with a grin.

"And sure, at first I thought you were a bit of an arsehole, but after I'd got to know you a bit better I started to think that maybe you weren't after all," Porthos continued. "That underneath, actually you were quite nice. Just a bit prickly on top. Except I also thought you were straight, so I didn't imagine it would go anywhere."

"Which Constance put you right on," Athos murmured. He wasn't offended at being thought an arsehole. He was more surprised that Porthos thought he was nice. He couldn't even process the idea that Porthos thought he was hot.

"Yeah." Porthos gave a breathy laugh. "To be honest I've not been able to stop thinking about you ever since. Thinking about this." He kissed Athos again, slow and deep, and Athos was glad they were sitting down because he felt distinctly weak at the knees.

After a while they were both starting to feel rather warm and Porthos unfastened his uniform jacket, slipping it off to reveal a tight white t-shirt underneath. There was a neat bandage around his left bicep, and Athos trailed a light finger over it.

"I suppose at least today answers one question," he said, and Porthos looked at him curiously. "I was wondering," Athos told him with a smirk, whether you were just incredibly good at keeping your uniform clean, or whether you had a whole rail of identical ones."

Porthos laughed. "I've got a few. But yeah, I should probably take out shares in Persil." 

Athos gave into temptation and leaned over to press a kiss to Porthos' arm, just below the bandage. Porthos smiled at him in surprise, touched by the affectionate gesture from someone he still half-thought of as rather stand-offish. He fancied Athos and found he was liking him more and more, but up to now he'd never thought of him in terms of being adorable.

"Come here." He pulled Athos back into his arms and they picked up where they'd left off, kissing until their lips were sore and both of them were feeling distinctly restricted in the trouser department.

"Did you want to take this into the bedroom?" Porthos murmured, kissing his way down Athos' neck and surreptitiously eyeing the giveaway bulge at his crotch.

"Oh, I - " Athos seemed flustered and Porthos pulled back, looking enquiring. 

"No?" Porthos smiled at him. "It's okay, if you don’t."

"I just - I haven't - I don't normally sleep with someone on a first date," Athos said in a rush, flushing scarlet. What the hell did he sound like, he wondered. A prude, for a start. And this wasn't exactly a date either, was it? He sounded ridiculous.

"That's okay." Porthos moved further back, discreetly adjusting himself. "We don't have to. Sorry, I'm going too fast, would you rather I left?"

"No!" Athos pulled him back again and kissed him. "Just because I don't normally doesn't mean I won't," he added, not wanting to risk losing Porthos so soon.

Porthos gave a low laugh. "I don't want to rush you into anything. We can just kiss if you'd rather." Suiting his actions to his words until Athos was breathless and panting. 

"No. It's fine. I'm on holiday, right?" Athos smiled. "The rules are different. Plus, this cruise is only four weeks long and we've wasted nearly one of them already." He took Porthos' hand and stood up. "Coming?" 

Porthos followed him into the bedroom, laughing. "Are you sure? I really don't want to pressure you. I feel guilty now."

Athos shook his head and slid his arms around Porthos' neck, pressing in close. Now they were both standing up they could feel just how aroused they both were, and Porthos groaned quietly. 

"I want this," Athos murmured. "I want you."

Porthos was already fumbling with the buttons of Athos' shirt, and they dropped to the bed together, kissing hard. Removing Porthos' t-shirt took a little more care what with his injured arm, but Athos helped him lift it off and afterwards plastered kisses all over his bare chest.

"God." Porthos rolled Athos onto his back and climbed on top of him, rutting against him shamelessly until they were both gasping and groaning with need.

They pulled off shoes and socks and trousers and pulled back the covers of Athos' bed, climbing in together in nothing but their underwear. Now they started touching each other, hands venturing into new territory as they kissed all over again, sloppy, opened mouthed kisses with lots of tongue.

Porthos slid his hand inside Athos' underwear and took hold of his cock, stroking him slowly. "Can I take these off?" he murmured, hooking the fingers of his other hand into Athos' waistband.

Athos nodded, too turned on to form a coherent sentence. Porthos pulled them down carefully, then wriggled out of his own as well. Naked, Porthos was bigger than Athos had imagined in his most exaggerated fantasies, and he had a brief moment of panic. What the hell was he doing, getting into bed with a man he barely knew? Porthos was a lot bigger and stronger than him, and Athos suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable.

Porthos though seemed more intent on kissing him than pushing for anything more intimate, and after a minute or so Athos' fears faded again. Porthos was gentle and considerate, and Athos gradually came to realise that he trusted him.

It was Athos who reached down to circle Porthos' cock with his fingers after they'd done nothing more risqué than lie naked in each other's arms kissing lazily for a while. He palmed him slowly, thinking he'd never had quite such a thick cock in his hand before.

Porthos gave a grunt of approval and pushed into the touch, smiling against Athos' lips. Athos realised that despite his earlier agreement Porthos had been waiting for him to indicate he really was ready to take things further, and felt a wave of affection for the big man.

"Will you fuck me?" Porthos asked hopefully, taking Athos by surprise.

"Yes, if you want?" He'd expected Porthos to want to fuck him, and found that his remaining nerves had melted away with the quiet request.

Porthos nodded, but Athos suddenly frowned, remembering something.

"Oh, shit."

"What is it?"

Athos winced. "I haven't got any condoms. Have you?"

"Bollocks. No I haven't." Porthos rolled onto his side and gave Athos a rueful smile. "Thought it might look a bit presumptuous rocking up here with condoms and lube in me pocket."

"Nothing wrong with being prepared," Athos smiled. 

"I could go and buy some?" Porthos offered, but Athos wrapped his arms around him possessively.

"Don't go," he protested. "We'll make do."

Porthos clearly approved of this and snuggled in closer, pushing the hard length of his cock against Athos' stomach. 

With sex out of the equation they both felt a little like the pressure was off and spent a remarkably happy time just playing with each other. Athos couldn't keep his hands off Porthos' king-size knob, and Porthos proved equally fascinated with his. Having discovered that unlike him Athos was uncut, Porthos spent ages sliding his hand up and down Athos' cock and playing with his foreskin.

Eventually they stopped teasing each other and clung together in a last heated push towards orgasm, rubbing up against each other in a panting search for that last inch of friction that would tip them over the edge. At the last moment Porthos took both their cocks into his hand, squeezing them together and jerking them off roughly.

Athos threw his head back, body going rigid and his toes curling with pleasure as he came, pulsing in Porthos' hand. When he was spent Porthos knelt up and started a fast and frantic stroke on his own cock, spine arching as he finally came, shooting his load all over Athos' chest and belly.

There was a lot of it, and when he was done Porthos had an abrupt crisis of confidence, seeing what a mess he'd made of him.

"Shit, sorry," he muttered, looking round for a tissue or something to clean Athos up with. Porthos' come was running down his stomach and groin as he sat up, but Athos reached out for him.

"Hey. Come here. It's okay." Athos drew Porthos down next to him and kissed him. 

"Sorry," Porthos muttered again. "I got carried away."

Athos smiled. "Do I look like I'm objecting? Here." He leaned over and pulled a pack of tissues out of the bedside drawer unit and they cleaned each other up, both half-laughing now. 

Porthos still looked a little worried though, and Athos took his hand and squeezed it. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Porthos gradually relaxed as he realised Athos genuinely didn't mind the liberties he felt he'd taken. "Sorry. I was afraid I'd put you off."

"Not a chance." Athos lay back and held out his arms. "Will you stay?"

"Do you want me to?" Porthos sounded surprised, as if he'd expected Athos to chuck him out afterwards.

"Of course I want you to." They snuggled down under the duvet, and Athos turned out the light. 

The darkness was warm and intimate, and they lay there talking quietly for some time, until Porthos started yawning again. This time it set Athos off too, and by common consent they settled down to sleep, spooned comfortably together.

\--

When Athos opened his eyes he was surprised to find it was daylight already and Porthos was standing next to the bed, pulling on his clothes.

"What time it is?" he mumbled, and Porthos smiled down at him.

"Still early. I need to get showered and changed and ready for work. You go back to sleep."

Athos sat up and Porthos bent over the bed and kissed him. "Thank you for last night," he whispered.

Athos gave him a crooked smile. "Thank _you_ ," he countered, and Porthos laughed.

"Can I come back tonight?" 

"Yes." Athos felt himself blushing, but nodded. "Of course."

"Good." Porthos kissed him again, and Athos wound his arms around his neck.

"Can't you skive off and stay here?"

"Sadly not." Porthos untangled himself reluctantly and gave him another kiss. "But I'll see you tonight? When I come off shift?" He frowned. "Shit, no, wait, I've got table duty tonight. But after dinner? Is that alright?"

Athos nodded. "It's not like I'm going anywhere," he pointed out. 

"You might get a better offer," Porthos grinned, pulling on his shoes.

"I don't think there's a better offer on board," Athos told him. "I don't think I've ever _had_ a better offer."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Porthos laughed, and gave him a final kiss that lasted several minutes. 

"I really do have to go," Porthos sighed eventually. "I'll come and find you tonight, as soon as I can?" 

Athos smiled. "I'll be waiting."

After Porthos had gone, Athos snoozed a while longer then got up and took a shower. Soaping himself all over, he went over the events of the previous day and night with a faint sense of surprise. He'd never really thought of himself as someone who had casual sex, although he didn't have any particular moral objection to it. Now he came to think about it he wondered if he'd have had more if he'd had the opportunity. 

The trouble with casual hooks ups was the implication that one had to enjoy going out and meeting new people in the first place. Athos wondered idly if somewhere in a parallel universe there was a more gregarious version of him who was a massive slut. He rather hoped there was.

The ship was on route to Grenada so there would be no excursions to avoid today. Athos wandered up to the restaurant for a late breakfast and bumped into d’Artagnan and Constance who were just coming out.

"Athos! We missed you at dinner last night."

"I ate in my cabin. How are you?" Feeling faintly guilty that having been wrapped up in his own trauma he'd not checked to see if Constance was alright after her ordeal. But she seemed fine, and even laughed. 

"Oh I'm okay. There was one casualty though," Constance announced, sounding amused. "D'Artagnan's poor hat. It got knocked off in all the confusion, and by the time we found it again it had been run over by a truck."

"Oh dear." Athos tried to compose a suitable expression of sober distress to match d'Artagnan's, but it was hard to keep a straight face, especially when Constance was giggling. He was glad that neither of them seemed the worse for their experience though, and after a brief exchange he went on into breakfast, having kept quiet about his night with Porthos. He saw no reason to spread gossip about himself, or anyone else. 

Afterwards, Athos detoured through the retail section and went into the pharmacy, buying condoms and lube and then adding a disposable camera to his basket on impulse. It was only when he got back to his cabin that he realised how dodgy that particular combination of purchases must have looked and collapsed on his bed, spluttering with mortified laughter.

\--


	4. Chapter 4

He spent the rest of the day exploring the ship, having convinced himself up until now that he wasn't interested. Getting to know Porthos had added a new dimension to it, and Athos found he was suddenly more curious about this huge floating town that Porthos looked after. He discovered two cinemas, squash and tennis courts, two swimming pools, a theatre, a dance hall, a casino, a library and even a medical centre. By the time he got back to his cabin his feet were aching and he was faintly stunned by the scale of it all.

When evening came around he was in two minds as to whether to go up to the restaurant or not. Porthos had indicated he'd be playing host on the top table again, which presumably meant he wouldn't have any time to devote to Athos. The alternative was simply waiting in his cabin for Porthos to turn up when he was done, and Athos was decidedly too restless for that.

In the end he went up, guessing that he could probably join d'Artagnan and Constance and at least wouldn't look embarrassingly like he was sitting alone and pining. To his alarm he discovered they were already seated with another couple, but before he could backtrack they'd seen him and waved him over.

It transpired they'd all met by the pool and seemed to have instantly become firm friends. Athos was welcomed in loudly, but found his initial fears that he'd have to make awkward conversation were unfounded, as he could barely get a word in edgeways. As it seemed surplus to requirements he let his attention wander, and saw Porthos enter the hall with the captain.

He was almost surprised when Porthos looked round the room and gave him a smile of recognition when he spotted him. Athos nodded back, his stomach performing ridiculous somersaults. 

As he ate, Athos found his gaze kept wandering in Porthos' direction, quite of its own accord. This level of attention unfortunately meant that he was then witness to Porthos being charming and attentive to all the ladies at his end of the table, and Athos growled inwardly. 

A little light flirting. He couldn't stop the phrase going round and round his head. Porthos was just doing his job, Athos told himself, it didn't mean anything.

Did he mean anything, come to that? This might be Porthos' first tour on this particular boat, but he must have been doing it for years to get to the position he currently held. Athos couldn't help wondering if Porthos often ended up sleeping with someone on these trips. He might have a boy in every port for all Athos knew. 

On the other hand, did it really matter if he did? What was this other than a bit of fun, Athos wondered. It wasn't like it could go anywhere. But he liked Porthos, and he fancied him, and the thought of getting to sleep with him set the butterflies off all over again.

Eventually Athos couldn't stand to sit there and watch Porthos blatantly flirting with other people any longer and excused himself from the table, not so much as glancing in Porthos' direction as he strode from the room.

Back in his cabin, Athos started to wonder if he'd made a mistake. Now it felt too much like he was waiting for someone to call at his door to have sex with him. It was like a sleazy version of room service. 

To take his mind off things he drank his way through all the whisky miniatures in the mini bar, and paced a lot. It was almost another hour before there was a knock at his door, and despite the fact he'd been waiting for it Athos jumped sharply.

"Porthos." Athos let him in, feeling himself tense up even further. 

"Hello." Porthos gave him a warm smile and leaned in for a kiss. Squirmy with nerves, Athos ducked away after the briefest peck.

"Would you like a drink?"

Porthos shook his head. "No thanks, not for me. Had a couple of glasses with me dinner. Sorry I'm so late, I got away as soon as I could. You have one if you want though?"

"No, that's okay. I'm fine." Athos gave him a tight smile. "Well." They stared at each other for a beat. Porthos looked hopeful and anticipatory. Athos had no idea what his own expression said. "We'd better get on with it then." 

Porthos frowned. "You could make it sound less like a chore," he said lightly. 

"Sorry. Sorry, I - so, are we doing this then?"

Porthos came closer, trying to catch his eye. "Athos, if you've changed your mind, it's okay? We don't have to?"

"No, it's fine. I want to." Athos could hear the strain in his voice and winced. He was breathing too rapidly, and he wished he had a drink. It would give him something to do with his hands if nothing else.

"Are you nervous?" Porthos asked softly.

"No! No, why would I be nervous?" Athos lied. "Don’t be stupid. It's fine."

"I dunno. Hooking up with a guy you barely know, maybe?" Porthos suggested. "I mean, I'm kinda nervous. I'll admit that." 

"You're nervous?" Athos echoed.

"Well, yeah. It's not like I make a habit of this."

"Don't you?" At this point Athos was just parroting things back at him without thinking, but it came out sounding accusatory and Porthos' smile hardened a little.

"Is that what you think?"

"No. No, of course not," Athos said, despite the fact he'd been wondering exactly that. "I mean it doesn't matter if you do."

"Well I don't!"

"Okay. Fine." 

They stared at each other in exasperation, then Porthos sighed. 

"Let's start again shall we? Why don't we compromise. Let's have that drink, and take it to bed? And then see where things go from there? Unless you'd rather I just left again?" 

Athos shook his head. "I don't want you to leave," he said in a small voice, then managed a smile. "I like your plan though. I reckon I could get behind that."

"Well alright!" Porthos grinned at him. "Got any whisky?" 

Athos cleared his throat. "Um. Would gin and tonic be okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Not fussy." Porthos caught sight of the row of empty miniatures on the sideboard, then tactfully pretended he hadn't.

Athos fixed them both a G&T and lead Porthos into the bedroom, where he set the glasses down on the bedside unit and immediately started clinically stripping all his clothes off at some speed.

Given his initial impression that Athos had been reluctant, Porthos watched this in some surprise, starting to laugh.

"Blimey, you don't waste any time. Okay, naked drinking, that's a twist I approve of."

Athos shrugged awkwardly, clambering hurriedly under the duvet and watching Porthos follow suit and undress himself. He was no less impressive than Athos remembered, and he experienced a spike of nervous desire.

Porthos climbed in after him, handed Athos his drink, and then settled an arm around his shoulders, making no move to instigate anything more intimate. 

After a while Athos gradually felt himself relax, his rather panicky breathing slowing to normal. Beside him Porthos was warm and solid and somehow reassuring, and Athos let his head droop unguardedly onto Porthos' shoulder.

"Better?" Porthos turned to look at him with a smile.

Athos nodded. "Better." He sighed. "Sorry. I'm fucking this up." 

"No you're not." Porthos put down his own glass and turned to him. "Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly. "It's okay to say no if you'd rather not."

Athos gave him a wonky smile. "Of course you can," he said, sounding rather hoarse. "I bought condoms," he blurted as an afterthought, wanting somehow to prove that he really had been looking forward to this.

Porthos grinned at him. "So did I," he admitted. "But they won't go off. We can save them for another time if you'd rather."

"Bugger that." Athos downed the rest of his drink, and pulled Porthos into his arms. 

They kissed each other, slowly at first and then with more confidence as it became apparent that regardless of any initial hesitancy they were both up for this, in every sense of the word. 

"Did you still want me to...?" Athos let the thought trail off, but Porthos took his meaning and nodded.

"If you do?"

"I'd love to." Athos gave him a crooked smile and Porthos laughed self-consciously. 

"Good." 

Athos lifted his bag of earlier purchases out of the drawer, and Porthos grinned. "I like a man who buys in bulk." 

Athos immediately went bright red, and Porthos kissed him on the cheek. "How would you like me?" he murmured.

"On your front?" Athos suggested. "Would that be alright?" Porthos was a big man, and he suspected if he had to concentrate on manhandling his legs as well as fucking him it was going to end in confusion and embarrassment for both of them. Something for when they were a bit more familiar with each other perhaps, assuming he didn't screw this up so badly that Porthos never wanted to see him again.

"Sure." Porthos pushed the covers down and turned to lie on his stomach, arms folded under his chin and head turned slightly so he could half-watch Athos.

Athos took a moment to just sit and admire Porthos' toned body. He was muscular without being overly bulky, and had the most perfect backside Athos had ever seen. He reached out to grab a handful, and Porthos gave a muffled laugh.

"Nice arse," Athos announced, straddling Porthos' thighs and taking a cheek in each hand, kneading and spreading appreciatively. "Very nice arse," he added in a lower voice, sliding one hand right between Porthos' legs to cup his balls.

Porthos made an approving noise, pushing against the bedclothes beneath him as Athos continued to explore.

Left to his own devices, Athos went about opening the lube and starting to play, working a teasing fingertip inside and bending over to lay a kiss on the small of Porthos' back.

As he worked, by turns stroking and kissing and easing Porthos open, it belatedly occurred to him that not all of the tightness of Porthos' body was down to muscle tone and clean living, but that he was in fact holding himself quite tensely. 

He suddenly remembered Porthos admitting to being nervous, and paused. He'd assumed at the time that it had just been Porthos trying to put him at his ease - Porthos was so smiley and cheerful and confident that nerves didn't show at all - but that didn't mean they weren't there.

Athos stopped what he was doing and crawled forwards until he was lying along the length of Porthos' back. "Hey," he said softly.

Porthos turned his head to look at him, still smiling but it occurred to Athos that a smile could hide a multitude of sins.

"You will tell me, won't you," Athos said quietly, "if I do anything you don't like? If you want me to stop at all?" He smiled. "Or if I'm not doing something you would like, for that matter."

Porthos' smile widened, and Athos didn't think he'd imagined the feeling of Porthos relaxing a little.

"Thank you," Porthos murmured. "I will." He studied Athos for a second, then broke into a grin. "Come 'ere." He rolled over so Athos half-fell into his arms, and they kissed each other, both laughing in sudden delight. 

It was as if a layer of tension that neither of them had really been aware of had been lifted, and after that things became a lot more fun. They started talking about what they were doing for a start, frequently getting sidetracked into tickles and kisses and laughter. 

The sex, once they finally got round to it, was relaxed and mutually enjoyable, with both men achieving a perfectly respectable orgasm. Afterwards they lay in each other's arms, breathlessly satisfied.

"That was nice," Athos murmured sleepily, pressing a kiss to Porthos' collarbone and only then thinking that describing sex as 'nice' might be deemed rather unflattering. Sex should surely be mind-blowing, or earth-shattering, or at the very least fucking amazing. But they'd still been getting to know each other's bodies, each other's likes and dislikes, and had perhaps been too careful of each other for that. 

What it had been, was perfectly adequate, and while there was nothing wrong with that it was hardly a very sexy or romantic thing to admit to. 

To Athos' mild relief Porthos smiled at him and returned the kiss. "It was," he agreed. "Very nice. And I wouldn't be at all averse to doing it again sometime, if you were so inclined?"

"I'd like that," Athos told him. "Very much."

Porthos hugged him close and Athos sensed that somehow they both felt in a way relieved by the outcome. They'd negotiated the tricky step of first sex, and had pleased each other enough to want to do it again.

"Tomorrow?" Porthos suggested, and Athos laughed.

"Why not?" 

Porthos nodded happily, and settled down comfortably in the bed with Athos tucked into his arms. "We'll have been sailing for a week when we reach Grenada," he said. "I should be due a free afternoon. Fancy going ashore with me?"

Athos was surprised, but nodded. "Yes, alright. That sounds nice."

"Great." Porthos looked pleased, and also as if he'd expected Athos to say no. "You don't mind playing the tourist with me?"

"I should think playing the tourist will be a lot more fun with you around," Athos smiled, wondering exactly how much of a miserable sod he'd come across as in the beginning. 

\--

For the first time, it really felt like they were in a tropical paradise. White sand shifted softly beneath their bare feet as they walked along between sparkling blue water and a line of waving palm trees. 

After a fabulous seafood lunch on the veranda of a five star hotel they'd walked some distance along the shore together, and Athos was definitely starting to see the appeal of this type of holiday. 

He snapped off several pictures of the view on his disposable camera, then a couple of Porthos for good measure. Porthos laughed, and took out his phone to capture one of Athos in return.

"Hey, you should give me your phone number," he said, examining the photo and carefully saving it. 

"I don't have my phone with me," Athos said distractedly. "Treville wouldn't let me bring it, or my laptop, in case I tried to do some work." 

"Well that - wasn't really my point," Porthos sighed, but he was talking to himself because Athos had spotted a beachside bar and sped up.

"Fancy a cocktail?"

"Not really," Porthos said, and Athos looked round mournfully. 

"No? You're not on duty though?"

"I don't really like drinking during the day," Porthos told him. "You have one if you want. It's your holiday."

"I will," Athos said a little stiffly and walked up to the palm-fronded shack. He ordered something that was a lot more rum than fruit, and Porthos bought a fresh pineapple juice.

They carried their drinks a little way along the beach and sat on the sand in a patch of shade.

Athos took a sip of his, but Porthos noticed after a while that he was mostly just poking at the fruit in it and playing with the little pink umbrella.

"Isn't it very nice?" he asked.

Athos looked sideways at him. "No, it's fine." He hesitated, then turned to look at him properly. "Do you mind?"

"Mind what?" Porthos frowned, lost.

"Me drinking."

"Eh? No, of course not." Porthos shook his head. "Drink as much as you want. As long as you don't mind me not drinking?" he added questioningly.

"No, no of course not."

Porthos nodded, relieved. "If I drink in the middle of the day, I just want to fall asleep," he explained. "And where's the fun in that?"

Athos smiled, relaxing a little. "I don't want you to think I'm a lush." 

Porthos snorted. "Daft beggar. Come here, let's have a taste." He leaned over and took a sip of Athos' rum cocktail through the straw. 

"Fuck me, that's potent. I would definitely be asleep if I had one of them. So will you be."

"Then you'll just have to find ways of keeping me awake, won't you?" Athos smirked, and leaned in for a lingering kiss. 

After a while though Porthos abruptly pulled back and shifted an inch or so away, looking awkward. Confused as to what had changed his mood Athos looked round and realised a group of people he recognised from the boat had wandered into view up the beach.

"Are you not supposed to be fornicating with the passengers?" he guessed.

Porthos sighed, digging his toes into the sand. "We're not really supposed to, but there's no actual rule against it," he admitted. "It's just - " he stopped again, and Athos waited patiently for him to finish.

"It's more that I haven't actually told anyone on board yet that I'm gay," Porthos confessed in a sudden rush. "I mean - it's not that I'm ashamed of it or anything - just - it's not something it's that easy to drop into conversation," he said dolefully. "I guess I was waiting till I knew the crew a bit better too."

"Understood," said Athos softly. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Porthos glanced up gratefully. "You don't mind?"

"What's to mind?" Athos nudged him. "Now who's being daft?"

Porthos smiled at him. "Thank you," he said softly, and they touched their plastic drink tumblers together in a toast. 

Walking back to the harbour they took a route that wound slightly inland, away from the groups crowding the beach. Idling down the sandy track between the trees, Porthos looked round to make sure they were quite alone then reached out and took Athos' hand.

Athos looked up at him in surprise, then smiled. "You don't have to do this, if you're worried we'll be seen," he said.

Porthos shook his head. "I want to," he said stubbornly. 

Athos squeezed his fingers. "You know, lovely as this island is, I've got a better idea of how we could spend the rest of your afternoon off," he suggested. 

Porthos nodded consideringly and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Race you back to the boat then?"

\--

They made it back to Athos' cabin in record time and stretched out on the sheets, quickly stripping off to press kisses to sun-warmed skin. 

There was still sand clinging to their feet, and Athos waved away Porthos' apologies for getting it in his bed. He kissed his way down Porthos' chest and stomach with a slow appreciation, feeling Porthos hardening against him as he worked his way down. By the time Athos reached his groin Porthos was fully erect and Athos took him into his mouth for a slow suck.

Porthos groaned with surprised pleasure, and when Athos crawled back up his body a moment later kissed him eagerly.

"Would you like me to suck you off?" Athos offered, seeing that his initial forays had been so enthusiastically received.

Porthos laughed. "Is that a rhetorical question? I would like that very much," he confirmed. "If you would?"

Athos nodded. He enjoyed giving head, and Porthos posed an enticing challenge to see how much of him he could get down. Before he could resume his earlier position though, Porthos had caught his arm.

"Just to say - so you know, I'm - I'm clean," Porthos offered. "I know you maybe think that I've been shagging my way round the Mediterranean coast, but I haven't, I promise. Truth is, it's been a while. And then it was - kind've a long term deal."

Athos nodded his understanding. "Same here," he said quietly. "Not so much the long term thing, but - there haven't been many. And I've always been careful."

Porthos smiled at him gratefully, glad that Athos had taken it in the spirit it had been meant. "Sorry, I'm talking too much," he added. "I'll shut up now."

"I like you talking," Athos told him. "Talking's good."

"Wasn't so long ago my blathering irritated the crap out of you," Porthos reminded him. 

Athos smirked. "And now I find it endearing. I'm not entirely sure what's happening to me."

"Maybe the sunshine's doing you good," Porthos grinned.

"Something is," Athos agreed, giving him a wicked look before bending over to slide his lips around the head of Porthos' cock.

He was thick and warm in Athos' mouth, lips stretching obscenely to accommodate him. Exploring with his tongue, Athos experimented with how far in he could take him. He couldn't get to the base of him, but judging by the muffled "Christ!" from Porthos, his efforts appeared to be quite respectable.

Athos pulled back, suppressing a cough and clearing his throat before going again, this time concentrating on sucking him in a bobbing rhythm now he'd found his limits.

"Can you dislocate your jaw too, for the larger furry animals?" Porthos enquired conversationally, and Athos nearly choked. He sat up, giving Porthos a reproving look. Porthos grinned at him innocently "What?"

"Are you calling me a snake?" Athos enquired, wiping his lips.

"More of a snake charmer," Porthos declared delightedly, making his cock bounce and slap against his belly.

"Better be careful I don't decide to put it back in its basket then," Athos said, bending over him once more. 

This time Porthos restricted his commentary to encouraging noises and the occasional appreciative swearword. Athos' hands were as attentive as his mouth, and Porthos could feel himself quickly unravelling under his touch. 

"Fuck, Athos. I'm gonna come," Porthos panted, flailing slightly with his hand until he tangled it loosely in Athos' hair with a warning tug. Athos didn't let up the motion of his mouth for a second, one hand working the lower part of Porthos' cock, the other massaging his balls. As Athos didn't seem to object to the concept of Porthos coming in his mouth, Porthos did exactly that.

Twice Athos swallowed gamely around him then had to sit up, semen dripping from his pursed lips.

"Fuck me that's hot," Porthos said faintly, handing him a fistful of tissues.

Athos made a face, cleaning himself up then giving a rueful laugh. "I forgot you come in pints."

Porthos cackled with laughter and pulled Athos down into his arms. "What can I say? I'm a big boy. And you look fucking edible covered in my spunk." He suited actions to words and proceeded to give Athos a very thorough kissing.

"So," Athos said speculatively, once they'd paused for a cold drink and were lying curled together in a shaft of sunshine, naked and relaxed. "My turn?"

Porthos nodded agreeably, reaching down to play with Athos' rapidly stiffening cock.

"Your turn," he agreed. "Although I warn you I think my gag reflex is worse than yours."

"If you'd rather not - " Athos started, but Porthos shook his head. 

"No, I'm up for it. I'm just warning you I might be crap." He grinned. "I said you were edible didn't I? You don't get to stop me proving it."

\--

The next couple of weeks slid past in a blur of sun, sea and sex. Jewel-like islands emerged from the sea and fell past in their wake as the ship crawled from one achingly beautiful anchorage to the next. The Grenadines, Barbados, St Lucia, Martinique, Antigua - all of them brought to mind tabloid stories of rich playboys and Athos felt rather like one himself.

Occasionally Porthos would get an afternoon off and they would go ashore together, but mostly Porthos' duties kept him ship-bound. Finding himself in such exotic locations without the ability to explore them was frustrating in the extreme and Porthos insisted Athos take every opportunity to do so on his behalf, quizzing him closely each evening about the scenery, the locals, the food and the flora and fauna of wherever he'd been. 

In this fashion Athos ended up getting a lot more out of the cruise than he'd ever intended, and harboured a sneaking suspicion that Porthos was doing it deliberately. On the other hand he could always have refused, but Athos found he was enjoying it all, almost despite himself. Plus, never feeling himself very good at small-talk, it gave him something to talk about when they were lying in bed together.

On St Lucia Porthos discovered Athos hadn't even bothered to pack swimming trunks and pestered him into buying an appalling floral pair in the gift shop. The half-way point of the cruise, Porthos had two days off and they spent a whole afternoon swimming in the warm seas. The following day to Athos' surprise, who'd been rather hoping they could spend in it bed, Porthos announced they were going snorkelling off the Anse Chastanet reef. 

As a complete novice this meant Athos was first subjected to a beginner's instruction lesson with a group of teenagers before finally being allowed to join him on the reef, but within minutes had forgiven him the indignity. Sliding past just beneath them were thousands of brightly coloured fish, slow moving turtles, weirdly sculpted coral, and they even spotted a tiny seahorse that secretly made Athos' year. 

Lying together on the white sands afterwards, Porthos reached over and quietly took Athos' hand. "Do you think this is what Paradise is like?" he murmured.

"Nah. Paradise would have a bar," Athos countered, and Porthos flicked sand at him before rolling over to kiss him into submission.

In the hours Porthos was off-duty they'd been rarely out of each other's company, a phenomenon that had eventually been noticed by other members of the crew. Porthos had dodged a bollocking by claiming that Athos had already been his boyfriend when he came on board, which, whilst irregular, was met with a grudging acceptance. It had meant they could be a little more open in public after that, although Porthos still liked to preserve his illusion of availability whilst hosting at the dinner table. Athos never objected to this, although generally chose to eat in the other bar or his cabin on those nights, rather than watch the performance.

\--


	5. Chapter 5

Somehow before either of them knew it the ship had reached the Virgin Islands, the last stop on the tour before the four-day ocean cruise to disembark in New York.

By now they had become intimately familiar with every inch of each other, with one exception - up to now, Porthos had bottomed every single time they'd made love. Whilst by no means averse to this arrangement, Athos couldn't help but fantasise about what it would be like the other way round.

"So when do I get a taste of this then?" he asked finally, lying semi-naked on his bed one night and reaching over to waggle Porthos' half-mast erection.

"You've had so many tastes you claimed you could tell when all the pineapple juice kicked in," Porthos laughed. 

Athos shook his head. "Not quite what I meant. But yeah, I could, and believe me it was an improvement," he snorted. "No, I just - don't you want to fuck me at least once? We've got three nights left after this before I go home, and I have got to have me some of that," he teased.

Porthos went strangely quiet at that, and Athos sat up, feeling guilty.

"Sorry, do you not like to do that? We don't have to. It was just a thought."

"It's not that I don't want to." Porthos hesitated. "Look, I'm not being funny, but - I'm scared I might hurt you."

Athos raised his eyebrows. "Porthos you might be hung like a horse, but I promise you a couple of pints of lube and something leathery to bite on and I'll be fine."

Porthos raised a wan smile but still looked reluctant, and Athos shuffled up to sit next to him. "Porthos? Why do you think you'd hurt me? You're the gentlest man I've ever slept with." 

"I just - " Porthos looked embarrassed, and defensive, and a little miserable. "Somebody once said I didn't know my own strength," he muttered. "That I shouldn't be allowed to fuck people."

"Who?" Athos demanded. "Who hurt you Porthos?" he added more softly, when Porthos didn't reply. "Who's made you doubt yourself like this?"

"My ex," Porthos sighed.

Athos narrowed his eyes. "And was all said this during a reasoned and mutually supportive discussion about sex?" he asked steadily. "Or was he angry at the time?"

"We were arguing," Porthos admitted quietly.

"So none of it was true then was it?" Athos pointed out. "He just wanted to hurt you."

"He succeeded," Porthos said, dropping his gaze. Athos put an arm round him.

"Porthos if you really don't want to, then we don't have to, of course we don't. But if you'd like to try? Then I am very, very willing to play."

Porthos glanced up with a look of uncertain hope. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do." Athos let his hand slide down over Porthos' thigh to circle his cock, starting a slow stroke just firm enough to start him fidgeting.

"Alright." Porthos made his mind up. "But you have to promise to stop me if - if - if it hurts." 

"I will." Athos kissed him. "I promise." 

"God, that sounds so awful," Porthos said, looking pained. "Like some kind of horrible boast, and it's not meant to."

"It's okay," Athos murmured, dropping kisses inside Porthos' open shirt collar. "It really doesn't." He sat up again and looked at him. "For that matter, what I said sounded pretty bloody objectifying."

Porthos kissed him with a smile. "Let's stop trying to second-guess ourselves shall we? That way madness lies."

Athos nodded, sliding the shirt off Porthos' shoulders and wriggling out of his own underwear so they were both naked.

They changed positions on the bed so that Athos was lying back against the pillows and Porthos was facing him, squeezing lube over his fingers and looking so nervous Athos almost laughed.

"You're supposed to be enjoying yourself," he said. "You look like you've just been asked to deliver a baby."

Porthos stuck his tongue out. "Shut up fucknuts. Or I'll fetch the forceps."

"Kinky." Athos spread his legs and obligingly hitched up his knees. 

Half an hour later they were lying sprawled together, messy with lube and dizzy with kisses. Porthos had had four fingers so far inside Athos that Athos had enquired if he intended using him as a bowling ball, and both had been so close to coming just from this alone that they'd had to take a couple of minutes' breather.

"So you ready?" Porthos asked, voice low and already a bit wrecked. 

"I was ready a good fifteen minutes ago," Athos smiled. "Much more of this, you could use me as a glove puppet."

"I'm just being careful," Porthos growled, and Athos kissed him. 

"I know. And I adore you for it. Are _you_ ready, maybe that should be the question?" 

Porthos gave a jerky nod, but moved Athos' hand away as he reached out with the condom. "If you touch me right now, it'll be game over," he explained sheepishly. "I'll go off like a soda siphon."

Athos leaned back obediently, stifling a fit of the giggles as Porthos rolled the condom on himself with a look of intense concentration. Porthos glowered at him, then broke into a smile. "Ready?"

"Take me," said Athos softly. 

Lubed up and biting his lip, Porthos positioned himself carefully and inched forwards. As he pushed inside, Athos couldn't help catching his breath and Porthos froze.

"I'm fine," Athos breathed, albeit having gone a little wide-eyed. "Don't stop."

Porthos gave him a dubious look but did as he asked, nudging deeper by inches and frequently pausing to make sure Athos was okay with everything.

Eventually to Porthos' astonishment he was all the way in and Athos still hadn't objected. They locked eyes, and Porthos realised Athos was holding his breath.

"You would tell me if this was hurting, wouldn't you?" he muttered suspiciously.

Athos nodded tightly, then let out a long slow breath. "Holy fuck," he said hoarsely. 

Leaning over Athos, propped on his forearms and with Athos' legs hooked over his upper arms, Porthos frowned at him. "Should I pull out again?"

"No." Athos swallowed, licked his lips, took a deep breath. "No. Just give me a minute."

Porthos let him have his way, holding himself still while Athos got used to the feeling of being so completely filled. Athos' own erection had waned a little which worried him, but for now he was content to trust Athos would tell him when it was too much. 

"Okay." Athos shifted a little and then groaned at the effect this produced. "Okay, go for it."

Slowly Porthos started to move, drawing out a little way and thrusting carefully back in, wishing he had a free hand to reach for more lube. Athos seemed quite content though, and after a few seconds his cock started filling out again, which rather spoke for itself.

"Good?" Porthos checked, annoyed with himself for constantly asking.

"Very good." Athos gave him a breathless smile. "Fuck, Porthos."

"I am," Porthos grinned, daring to thrust a little harder.

Athos half-laughed, reaching down to take hold of his stiffening cock and tugging himself languidly, writhing a little as Porthos fucked into him.

"Harder," he whispered after a while, and Porthos obliged, both excited and scared by the noises Athos was now making. 

Every tiny movement of Porthos inside him was sending electric jolts of pure shivering sensation though Athos' body and he never wanted it to end. There'd been a certain initial discomfort to it, a certain stretch and sting to accommodating someone so big even after all their foreplay, but the feeling of Porthos so thick and hot and hard inside him had driven out all other considerations and Athos was in flights of ecstasy. 

He looked up to make sure Porthos was having an equally good time, and couldn't help but smile at the expression of astonished wonder on his face.

"Kiss me," Athos begged, holding out his arms. It took Porthos a moment to rearrange them enough to be able to bend over far enough to reach his mouth, but this new position meant Athos could wrap his legs round the back of Porthos' thighs and lock him in place.

Things became briefly frantic as they both abruptly realised neither of them were going to last much longer and ground against each other in a final bid for release. They came almost together, Athos swearing filthily and Porthos groaning, his face buried in Athos' shoulder.

"Christ on a bike." Athos flopped bonelessly back into the pillows as Porthos climbed off him, feeling dazed. 

"Are you okay?" Porthos asked, tying a knot in the condom and using his discarded pants to wipe Athos' come off his belly. 

"I think I just experienced nirvana," Athos said rather dreamily, and held out his arms. "Come and hold me." 

"Don't you want to clean up first?" Porthos laughed, relieved. "You're all spunky."

Athos groaned and sat up, swiping at himself and making a face. "Ugh."

"Here." Porthos had nipped into the bathroom and came back with a damp flannel.

"Thanks." Athos cleaned himself off and lay down again, this time with Porthos in his arms.

"Was that really alright?" Porthos asked him, as Athos kissed him enthusiastically.

Athos stroked his face. "You really have no idea, do you?" he said quietly. "It was amazing. You're amazing. And don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."

Porthos sighed, but it was a happy sigh, and Athos smiled at him. 

"Was it good for you too?" he teased, reasonably sure of the answer.

Porthos nodded. "God yes. Thank you, Athos. For letting me. For wanting me." He settled down against him, arms wrapped around Athos' waist. "I don't ever want this to end."

Athos stroked his hair fondly. "It'll have to eventually," he murmured. "Not long left now." They could faintly feel the engines thrumming through the ship as he spoke, leaving the Virgin Islands behind and heading for New York on the home straight.

"We'll sort something out though? Won't we?" Porthos looked up at him anxiously, but Athos kissed him and turned out the light. 

"Let's sleep now," he said. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

\--

Athos was standing on the upper deck at the rail, gazing out to sea. They'd been heading north for three days now, and it was noticeably colder. The sea had gradually changed from turquoise blue to a dark sapphire but now clouds were starting to gather and it just looked grey. Athos was the only person braving the cooler temperatures, everyone else had retreated inside for an early supper.

"Wondered where you'd got to." Porthos came to lean next to him at the rail and Athos looked at him in surprise.

"Have you got me tagged or something?" he teased, thinking that for an enormous ship Porthos always managed to seek him out with statistically improbable ease.

Porthos looked shifty. "No. But I have got access to the security cameras," he admitted. Athos stared at him and he looked uncomfortable. "Which I could probably be fired for if anyone knew I was using them for personal reasons, so I'm kinda hoping that doesn't piss you off too much."

Athos restrained himself to a dubious frown, and went back to staring out to sea. In turn, Porthos watched him silently for a while, then sighed. "Can we talk?"

"What about?" 

Porthos suppressed a hiss of irritation. Athos had been blatantly avoiding this conversation for days, changing the subject everytime he tried to raise it. But they were running out of time. Tomorrow morning the ship would dock in New York and Athos would disembark. They had one night left before Athos walked out of his life, and Porthos had to know if that was exactly what he was planning on doing.

"You go home tomorrow. So, are we going to stay in touch, or what?" Porthos tried to keep his tone deceptively light. 

"And be what? Penpals?" Athos' tone was flat and discouraging, and Porthos' heart sank.

"We could skype each other?" Porthos ventured. 

Athos finally turned to look at him. "What, share a transatlantic wank once in a while?" 

"Don't be hateful."

"Well that's what you meant wasn't it?" Athos folded his arms defensively. "Look, I live in Paris. And for the foreseeable future you'll be living here. We'll be on opposite sides of the world. Completely different timezones. Forgive me, Porthos, if I sound harsh, but tell me exactly what kind of future you see for us?"

Porthos stared at him miserably, then looked at his watch and scowled. "I have to go, I'm late for dinner."

"Wouldn't want to keep your ladies waiting," Athos said acidly, and Porthos glared at him. 

"Just because you're an anti-social prick." He bit back the rest of the sentence, face crumpling in anguish. "Can I see you after?"

Athos sighed. "Yeah."

He watched Porthos walk away, then thumped the rail painfully with his fist.

\-- 

When Porthos knocked on his door later that night, Athos was braced for an argument, but after staring at him mournfully for a beat Porthos pulled Athos into his arms and hugged him tightly.

Athos hugged back, and for a moment neither of them said anything but just stood there and held each other.

"I hate fighting with you," Porthos sighed as he finally pulled back. "I'm sorry I called you a prick."

Athos snorted. "Hardly a description I can sue you over." Porthos looked expectantly at him and Athos rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm sorry I was horrible to you."

Porthos smirked. "You almost managed to sound like you meant that."

"Can we not spoil our last night together?" Athos sighed. He turned away to pour some wine and missed the way Porthos' face fell at his words. "You want a glass?"

"No."

Athos looked round, taken aback by the brusqueness in his tone. "I'm sorry," he sighed after a moment. "I told you I'm no good at relationships. I'm no good at people in general. And I'm definitely no good at goodbyes." He downed the wine in one mouthful, and set the glass back on the table with a defiant click. 

Before he could pour another Porthos had come across and captured his hands. 

"Let's go to bed," Porthos said quietly. "You're right, let's not ruin this. We should stop talking."

"And start screwing?" Athos said with a wry twist of the lips.

"You got a better idea?"

Athos shook his head, and lead Porthos silently into the bedroom.

"What did you want to do?" he asked, unbuttoning his shirt. When Porthos didn't answer he turned to look at him, just in time for Porthos to shove him down on the bed. 

"Maybe I'll give you something to remember me by," Porthos said roughly, standing over him and unzipping his fly.

Athos stared up at him, suddenly breathless. "Oh God yes," he whispered.

After that it was a scramble to get undressed, both of them already awkwardly hard. Athos found his hands were shaking as he rolled the condom over Porthos' cock, and Porthos tilted his face up to look at him.

"You will tell me if I hurt you?" Porthos muttered anxiously, the fierce mask slipping for a moment. Athos kissed him hard on the lips.

"Shut up and fuck me," he breathed.

Porthos made a strangled noise in his throat and pushed Athos flat on the bed, pinning him down with the weight of his body and kissing him with a desperate urgency that left both of them gasping for breath. 

Glorying in the feeling of Athos spread beneath him, Porthos sucked a bruise onto his throat before sitting up and reaching for the lube, satisfied that he'd marked his territory.

Fingers slick, Porthos reached between Athos' legs, never once taking his eyes off his face as he opened him up. It wasn't quite that they were angry with each other, but whatever the cause somehow a layer of inhibitions had been stripped away. When Porthos pushed inside him it was still with a degree of care, but there was a boldness to it where previously he'd been more hesitant.

As Porthos slid home Athos threw his head back with a wordless cry that could have been equal parts pain and ecstasy. 

"Athos?" With an effort Porthos held himself still, waiting while Athos gulped in air and mastered himself.

After a moment Athos managed a nod. "I'm good," he said tightly. 

Whereas before Porthos might have dithered with the intention of coaxing more concrete reassurances from him, this time he took Athos at his word and started slamming into him with a fluid, pounding rhythm.

"Jesus fuck," Athos panted, but as he promptly wrapped his arms and legs around Porthos and clung to him, Porthos decided that apparently wasn't a request to stop.

It had been a long time since he'd had licence to fuck someone this hard and Porthos made the most of it, his thrusts becoming so violent they shook the bed and made several things fall off the bedside table.

Athos was beyond speech, hanging onto Porthos for dear life and sucking in ragged breaths in between making helpless keening noises, forced out of him by the overwhelming sensations. He'd never been fucked so thoroughly or so hard, and his entire body felt like it was about to explode. His own cock was trapped between them, squeezed and pulled by the press of their rutting bodies, and he could feel the pressure building of what promised to be the biggest orgasm of his life. 

Porthos, too, was close, he could tell. The frantic pounding eased a little, Porthos' thrusts becoming longer and slower as he drove home with a roll of his hips and a slight change in angle that suddenly tipped Athos over the edge. Before he knew it he was caught in a dizzying wave of pleasure, shuddering with it from head to toe as he came and came, coating both of them with his release. 

A few seconds later Porthos followed suit, the tremors of Athos' body clenching and spasming around him the final straw. One last hard thrust and he gave a moan of completion as he spilled his load, buried deep in Athos' hot and shaking body.

After a few moments where they could do nothing but cling to each other weakly, Porthos heaved himself to a kneeling position and pulled out, holding the condom in place. He tried to be gentle about it but still caught Athos wincing, and bit his lip.

"I hurt you." It wasn't a question, and Athos didn't try and deny it.

"That only matters if I minded," Athos said with a smile, his voice sounding as hoarse as if he'd been shouting. Maybe he had been, Porthos found the last few minutes was rather a blur. 

"Did you?" Porthos couldn't quite look at him. Athos sat up, leaning first over the edge of the bed to retrieve the tissues and then starting to wipe the mess he'd made off Porthos' chest.

"No. I liked it," Athos said quietly. "It was - incredible." He looked up and gave Porthos a smile that held an edge of embarrassment. "I mean it. I'm not just saying that. That edge of pain to it was - " he flushed and looked down again, helping Porthos take the condom off. "I don't think I ever really knew I liked that," he admitted softly. 

"Athos." Porthos sounded shaky, and he tipped Athos' head up again, this time to kiss him. 

When they'd cleaned up properly and were tucked together under the covers, Porthos nuzzled a kiss to Athos' cheek and rested his chin on his shoulder to look up at him soulfully.

"Can we talk now?" he asked quietly.

Athos sighed, and kissed him on the side of the head. "What is there left to say?" he asked, not unkindly. "We've had an amazing time together, but we always knew it couldn't last. I was always going to have to go home. I can't spend the rest of my life booking endless cruises, can I? And you know as well as I do that if we try to keep this up long distance it just wouldn't last."

Porthos shook his head. "There has to be a way," he argued. "I don't want to lose you so soon Athos."

"Then tell me how it would work," Athos said defeatedly. "Tell me, in practical terms, how you see it working. Because if you've got a plan, I'm listening."

Porthos fell silent and Athos sighed inwardly. He knew perfectly well Porthos didn't have a realistic plan because he'd been over all the options himself and come up blank.

"You were joking about the endless cruises, but couldn't you stay here?" Porthos ventured.

Athos raised an eyebrow. "Stow away you mean?"

That at least brought a smile back to Porthos' face, for which he was grateful.

"You could get a job on board. There's always things coming up," Porthos said, sounding more eager, but Athos shook his head.

"And do what? Work behind the bar? Chop veg in the kitchen? Maybe you see me as a croupier?" He gave a huff of helpless frustration. "I've worked my arse off for years to get where I am," he said. "Am I supposed to just throw that all away? I don't think there's much call for an on-board property portfolio manager, do you?"

Porthos looked sad, and Athos took his hand. "I like you," he said quietly. "An awful lot. But the idea of giving up everything I've worked for? My job, my house, my friends, my country even? Jack all that in and head off to the Caribbean for a new life with a man I just met? That's actually terrifying to me. I'm just not the kind of person who could ever do that," he confessed. "I wish I was. But I'm not. I'm sorry. Maybe next time you should pick someone a bit more spontaneous." 

Porthos nodded reluctant acceptance, squeezing his fingers. "I could do it though?" he offered a moment later, rather desperately. "I could come to Paris instead?"

Athos blinked. "And you'd be in exactly the same situation as I would be here. There's not much call for ship's officers in Paris. You've worked and trained for years to get to this point. You love it here. You love your job - "

"I love _you_!" Porthos blurted. They stared at each other, frozen in the light of the sudden confession. "I love you," he repeated, under his breath.

Athos tore his gaze away with some difficulty. "You've only known me for four weeks," he protested.

"And yet it feels like a lifetime," Porthos said. "You know, I was with Charon for four years. And in all that time, he never made me feel like you have just in these four weeks."

"Oh Porthos." Athos gathered him into his arms and held him tight. "I'm sorry," he whispered, face pressed against Porthos' hair. "I'm so sorry."

After a long time Porthos' breathing deepened into little breathy grunts, and Athos realised he'd finally fallen asleep, head resting on his chest. He pulled the duvet up to cover Porthos' bare shoulders, and stroked a light hand over his hair.

"I love you too," Athos whispered softly, into the silent room.

\--

In the morning things were stilted between them. Porthos was up and dressed early, and gave Athos a brusque nod as he climbed out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown. 

"I guess this is goodbye then," Porthos said stiffly. "I expect I'll be too busy to see you later."

Athos nodded silently, and Porthos glared at him, fighting back angry tears. "Aren't you going to say anything?" 

"Thank you," Athos said quietly. "For everything. For what we've had. It's meant more to me than you will ever know. And I'm sorry I can't be the person you want me to be. I really am."

Porthos gave a strangled sob and pulled Athos into his arms. They held each other fiercely for a moment, both blinking away tears the other didn't see.

Eventually they pulled back far enough to look at each other, and kissed each other solemnly for the last time. 

"Goodbye Athos." Sounding choked, Porthos turned and hurried abruptly out of the door.

Athos sank slowly back onto the bed, and wondered if it really was too early for a drink.

\--

Mid-morning the ship docked in New York and the passengers started disembarking. Athos had purposely stayed put in his cabin until it was time to go, telling himself it was simply to avoid the crush on the outside decks intent on the view as they nosed into the city.

His baggage collected and carried off some time earlier, all he had to do was negotiate himself to the correct level and make his way down the exit ramp.

Athos was sure that Porthos would be staying well away, but halfway down some sixth sense made him look up, and there was Porthos, standing on a balcony two levels up, staring right at him.

When he saw Athos looking, Porthos gave him a sad smile, and raised a hand in silent farewell.

Athos lifted his own hand instinctively, curling the fingers in something that wasn't quite a wave. He'd stopped walking, and people were backing up behind him now, muttering crossly under their breath. 

The unexpected interruption to progress appeared to have lead to an altercation further up behind him. Athos turned to look, his attention drawn by what sounded like d'Artagnan shouting at someone. It seemed he'd been jostled and managed to lose yet another hat over the side of the rail, vanishing into the murky water between the ship and the dock. 

When Athos looked up again, Porthos had gone.

\--

The journey home was long and tiring. His luck apparently thoroughly at an end, Athos ended up sitting next to a screaming baby for the whole flight, and by the time the plane touched down was just about ready to pierce his own eardrums in self-defence.

The icing on the cake came when it transpired that the airline had somehow managed to lose his bag, and had exactly no idea where it had gone. Too exhausted to argue for long, Athos gave it up as a bad job and made his way home, figuring that it had held nothing more important than dirty laundry and his copy of War and Peace that he never had quite managed to get to the end of. 

It was only as he was unlocking the front door to his empty house that Athos realised what else it had held - the disposable camera he'd bought. He'd been meaning to get the photos printed when he got back. There'd been several on there of Porthos, but now he wouldn't have so much as a single picture of him.

Athos slammed the door shut behind him and kicked his way through the junk mail on the mat. Maybe it was for the best, he told himself. Porthos had probably forgotten about him already. 

\--


	6. Chapter 6

Six months passed. Athos tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to put Porthos out of his mind. He threw himself back into his work with an all-consuming vigour, telling himself that this was what he'd wanted, this was what he'd passed up a chance at love for, so he'd damn well better make it count. 

At first Treville joked that his holiday had clearly done Athos good, given that he seemed more focussed than ever, but after a while Treville started to notice that despite his frankly astonishing success rates, Athos was clearly taking little pleasure from it any more.

He stared at the figurine Athos had brought him back as a souvenir. It was a native fertility idol made from coconut shells and cowries, and had probably looked kitschy and fun in the Caribbean. In the grey walled drizzle of Paris, sitting on the desk of a middle-aged white man, it just looked massively racist. 

He'd tried discreetly putting it away in a drawer but somehow it kept finding its way out again. He assumed this was down to Athos, who invariably stayed later than he did, but that suggested a sense of humour which seemed frankly unlikely. It occurred to Treville that an alternative answer was that the thing kept climbing out of its own accord, and he shuddered.

\--

"Afternoon."

Athos looked up from his desk as his colleague Aramis d'Herblay sauntered in balancing a coffee precariously on a stack of box files.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" he asked. Not that he really cared, but their desks sat face-to-face, and for the last two days he'd had no-one much to talk to.

"Conference at the Intercontinental. I _knew_ you weren't listening when I told you."

"Oh." Athos vaguely remembered him mentioning it now. "Any good?"

"God yes. I met a cracking girl staffing the front desk." Aramis told him cheerfully. "I'm seeing her again tonight."

Athos looked pained. "I meant the conference."

"What conference?" Aramis winked at him and leaned back in his chair, flipping through the pile of post that had accumulated on his desk since he'd been gone. "Oh, here, this one's for you." He frisbeed an envelope across the width of the two desks, narrowly missing Athos' coffee mug.

"Hey, watch it." Athos frowned at him, picking up the envelope. It was a large white envelope of a sort you might get a birthday card in, and his name and office address were handwritten. Whatever was inside felt loose, like it didn't match the envelope, and he prised open the flap curiously.

Inside was a cheap tourist postcard of a view of St Tropez. Athos frowned in confusion and flipped it over. And froze. 

_Dear Athos, I realise you may not want to hear from me, and I will fully understand if you just throw this card in the bin. But I had to let you know that I am back working the Med circuit, and if you wanted to meet up - well, I'm on a changeover this weekend. If you want to see me I'll be in the Waterside cocktail bar on the harbour at San Tropez this Friday at 7pm. If you don't come I'll understand. But if there's even a chance - I had to ask. I hope all's well. Porthos._

The writing was cramped to fit it all on, and it took up both sides of the card, which was presumably why it was in a separate envelope, unless that had been for discretion. There was a slanting stroke after Porthos' name, that looked rather like he'd started to put a kiss and then changed his mind.

Athos felt suddenly sick, going hot and cold all over. Friday. Today was Friday. How long had this been sitting innocently on Aramis' desk, misdirected by the postroom? As long as three days, possibly. He glanced at the clock on his computer screen. Gone half twelve. Even if he wanted to, there was no way he could possibly make it in time. 

Unwillingly, almost involuntarily, he took out his phone and scrolled to a particular picture.

Three weeks after coming home, he'd had an unexpected email from Constance. He'd forgotten she'd pestered him into giving her his address, and it had been full of inconsequential chatter and empty promises that they really must meet up, but attached had been a photo. This photo. It was of him and Porthos in Jamaica. Neither of them were aware the photo was being taken, and they were smiling at each other. It must have been taken seconds before someone had tried to mug her for that very camera, everyone oblivious of what was to come.

Athos had tried to make himself delete the photo, his thumb hovering over the button on an almost daily basis. But somehow he hadn't.

"Everything alright?" 

Aramis' voice snapped him back to the present with a start. "Sorry, what?"

"That's not a ransom demand or something is it? They haven't kidnapped your pomeranian?"

Athos gave him a look. "I do not own a pomeranian."

Aramis grinned at him. "That's exactly what a man who owned a handbag dog _would_ say. Seriously, what's the matter, you look like your lottery numbers came up the week you didn't buy a ticket."

Athos hesitated, then flicked the card back across the desk at him. Aramis read it with interest.

"Porthos? Wasn't that the guy you met on holiday?"

"Yes." Athos had told him some of it, making it out to be nothing more than a holiday romance. He'd suspected he was doing it just so he could say Porthos' name a lot, but holiday romances were at least something Aramis was proficient in, and he'd been an attentive listener.

"Looking for a hook-up?" 

"Looking for a bit more than that I should imagine," Athos sighed and Aramis looked at him curiously, handing the card back.

"What do you mean?"

"Things - got a bit heavy," Athos admitted. "He didn't want me to leave. Or - he wanted to come back with me."

"Oh, shit, bit of a psycho then?" 

Athos looked up and frowned. "No! Not like that. I mean - I considered it."

Aramis rocked back in his seat looking amused as the penny dropped. "Oh my God, you fell in love with him, didn't you? Athos de la Fère, the world's grumpiest workaholic, fell in love with a man he met on holiday? That's some serious poetic justice shit right there. So are you going to see him?"

"No. Look, nothing's changed. It still wouldn't work."

"Why not?" Aramis persisted. "I mean - I can see why you'd think that when he was half a world away, but he's practically local now. How long are Med cruises on average, probably not much more than two weeks. You could hook up once a fortnight then. And in the off season he could come and stay with you in Paris. Simple."

"You seem to have it all worked out," Athos coldly, wishing he'd never told Aramis anything about it after all.

"I'm just saying." Aramis beamed at him, entirely used to Athos' stony expression and unruffled by it. "There are ways you could make it work. If you wanted."

"Well, it's too late anyway," Athos told him flatly. "That meeting he's talking about is tonight. That card must have been sat on your desk the last couple of days. Even if I left right after work I probably wouldn't get there till tomorrow morning."

Aramis looked horrified, realising that if he hadn't been away at the conference Athos would have had time to sort something out.

"Well what if you left right now?" he suggested, determined to make it right. 

"I can't just walk out!" Athos hissed at him. "What would I tell Treville?"

"Leave him to me," Aramis said. "I'll handle him." Thinking privately that telling him the truth might even be met with a certain amount of sympathy.

Athos shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not chasing halfway across the country on the off-chance of a shag, I've got more self-esteem. It was fun while it lasted, but it's over Aramis, it was over a long time ago. Drop it." 

With that, Athos hurled the postcard into the wastepaper bin next to his desk and turned to stare grimly at his computer screen.

\--

The atmosphere in the Waterside that night was very much in the party spirit, but sitting alone at the bar, Porthos didn't feel like celebrating. For the first hour he'd been tentatively hopeful that Athos might come. During the second hour, his optimism had slowly drained away. He'd stubbornly sat there for a third hour, mostly because walking away was admitting that Athos didn't care and wasn't coming.

Maybe he's been held up, Porthos told himself. Maybe he didn't get your card. Yeah, right. Or maybe it pissed him off and he thinks you're a saddo stalker that can't let go.

Sadly resigned, Porthos got to his feet and pulled on his jacket, stepping out into the warm evening. It was gone ten but the waterfront was still bustling, music and light spilling from the various bars, and drifting up from the expensive yachts moored alongside.

He started walking down the road, feeling heavy with regret. This had been a last-ditch attempt to hang on to what he'd thought they had, but Athos clearly didn't feel the same way. Presumably Athos had just got on with his life. Now Porthos had to. 

He was some way along the harbour when he heard running feet behind him. He swerved slightly to one side without looking, intending to let whoever it was go past. 

"Porthos!" 

At the sound of his name he turned, surprise spiking into disbelieving hope as he recognised Athos running full tilt down the street towards him.

"Athos?" Porthos spread his arms to half-catch him as Athos caught up, chest heaving and gasping for breath. He fell into Porthos' arms, trying to stammer explanations and apologies and catch his breath at the same time, ending up seized by a coughing fit.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," Porthos soothed him. "Take a minute." He rubbed Athos' back calmingly and for a moment they clung to each other, Porthos almost holding him up. He could feel Athos' heart hammering in his chest, and realised he must have been running for some distance. 

Eventually Athos pulled back, looking embarrassed. It wasn't quite the dignified reunion he'd hoped for, but on the other hand at least it had broken the ice. Stammering awkward conversation would have been far worse.

"I didn't think I was going to make it," Athos explained, breathing heavily. "I only got your card at lunchtime."

"Oh, God. Right." Porthos looked cross with himself. "Sorry. That was a stupid way of doing it. I should have phoned, but I was too chicken. And I thought - I thought maybe you wouldn't want to hear from me," he admitted. "I figured this way you could ignore it if you wanted, and I wouldn't embarrass you."

"How did you even find me?" Athos asked curiously, still panting. 

"You said you worked in property," Porthos said, then when Athos looked none the wiser added, "your name's on your company's website. Ten minutes' googling and I found you." He hesitated. "Two weeks' constantly changing my mind before I sent the card though."

Athos gave him a crooked smile and Porthos stared at him, as if finding it hard to believe he was really here.

"I didn't think you'd come," he said softly.

"I nearly didn't," Athos admitted.

"What changed your mind?"

Athos gave a dry laugh. "The fact that I have friends that are more sensible than I am."

\--

"There's a train leaves in half an hour. You could just make it," said Aramis.

Jolted out of his reverie, Athos looked up and frowned at him across the desk. "What?"

"A train," Aramis repeated patiently, turning his screen round so Athos could see the timetable he'd pulled up. "There's a high-speed TGV leaves from Gare de Lyon in half an hour. You'd have to change at Saint Raphael, but you'd make it to St Tropez for about half six. You'll have to run, but if you book the ticket on your phone you should just make it."

Athos shook his head. "Aramis, I appreciate what you're trying to do but with all due respect, butt out. It's over. There's no point in stirring up the past."

"And I might believe that if you hadn't spent the fifteen minutes since you threw that card in the bin staring blankly into space," Aramis retorted. "Look," he said, softening his tone. "It's your choice Athos. Just promise me that if you don't at least try, that you won't spend the rest of your life regretting it."

\--

Athos gave Porthos a sheepish smile. "And so here I am."

"Remind me to send your mate some flowers." Porthos grinned, then frowned. "You're a bit later than half six though."

"I know." Athos groaned. "There was a hold-up. Signalling problem. I spent two and a half hours stuck forty five minutes away from the station." And he'd spent every single agonising minute picturing Porthos giving up and walking sadly away. 

"Well. You're here now." Porthos smiled at him, but it was rather hesitant as he realised that Athos might only have come to tell him goodbye.

"Yes." Athos looked as unsure as he did, but it was slowly dawning on Porthos that Athos had walked out of his precious work and dashed all the way across the country to meet him. You didn't do that just to tell somebody to get lost. Did you?

"So do you - " Porthos broke off again. "I mean - are we - oh God, I've spent days rehearsing what to say to you and now my mind's gone blank."

Porthos' fumbling hesitancy somehow had the effect of making Athos bolder though, and he smiled. 

"How about you skip the speeches and just kiss me?" Athos suggested quietly.

For a beat Porthos just stared at him in surprise then did exactly that, pulling Athos roughly into his arms and kissing him hard.

Athos kissed him back just as urgently, and when they broke off both men were shaking slightly. 

"Athos - God." Porthos kept hold of him, as if letting go might mean losing him all over again. "Are you really saying - do you want this? Do you want _me_?"

"Of course I do," Athos said hoarsely. "I always did. Walking away from you was the hardest thing I've ever done. And the stupidest."

Porthos gave a breathy laugh, trying to process everything Athos was saying and let himself believe that after all this time Athos still wanted him.

"How long have you been back?" Athos asked, when Porthos appeared to be having trouble forming a coherent sentence.

"About a month." Porthos swallowed, composing himself.

"You didn't come back because of me?" Athos asked, feeling guilty. To his relief, Porthos shook his head.

"No. To be honest I missed my friends. And I was only ever filling in over there. They offered me the chance to apply for the permanent job, but - yeah. I decided to come back here instead. " He looked sideways at Athos. "Okay, maybe it did occur to me that I might be able to see you. You know, once or twice. A minute."

Athos gave a surprised laugh, and Porthos grinned at him. "But it wasn't the only reason. It wasn't even the main one. I'm happier here. You don't have to feel responsible. In the end it was my decision, and for all the right reasons."

Athos nodded. "It's good to see you," he said softly.

"You too." Porthos drew him in for another kiss. "I've missed you. Every day."

"Me too." Athos put his arms around him and Porthos gave him an affectionate squeeze, feeling he might burst with happiness.

"Have you got a bag or anything?" Porthos asked, looking round as if one might magically appear.

Athos shook his head. "I have nothing but the clothes I'm standing up in," he admitted with a laugh. "There was no time for anything else."

Porthos grinned at him. "That's okay. You don't need anything. So, uh - you want to get a drink or something, or shall we go to my flat?"

"You own a flat here?" Athos asked, sounding surprised.

"Well, it's more of a room really. And it's only rented. But it does the job. I'm not on land much," Porthos said a little defensively.

"It sounds perfect," Athos smiled.

"It's got a bed?" Porthos added hopefully. Athos slipped an arm through his. 

"Sounding more perfect all the time."

\--

Porthos' lodgings were up a narrow alley a long way from the harbour, but neither of them minded the walk. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, Porthos let them in and turned on the light. He had one main bed-sitting room with a couple of gas rings for cooking, and a tiny bathroom with shower and toilet. A pair of narrow floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto a balcony rail without an actual balcony, but Porthos folded them back to let in some air.

"Well. Here we are." Porthos waited nervously for Athos' reaction, remembering that Athos had told him way back that he owned a townhouse in Paris. "Bit cramped, but - "

"Porthos." Athos reached out and pulled him closer, settling his arms around Porthos' waist. "Stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying," Porthos lied indignantly. "Is it alright though?"

"Well, speaking as someone who spends all day on property management, I'd say first impressions are favourable, but I'd have to try out the bed to be really sure," Athos told him with a straight face and Porthos laughed, finally relaxing. 

"Well a viewing can certainly be arranged. You want a drink? I've got a bottle of red somewhere."

"Love one, thank you." Athos hooked his fingers into Porthos' belt as he headed towards the cupboard, and dragged him back again for another kiss. "And as a wise man once said, why don't we drink it in bed, and see what happens from there?"

\--

The wine relaxed them enough to let go of any lingering awkwardness, and suddenly it was as if they'd never been apart. Soft kisses and touches lead inevitably to something more intimate and they made love long into the night, rediscovering and worshipping each other with every caress.

Porthos had turned off the main light and lit candles, and they lay wound around each other drinking the last of the wine. Outside the noises of the town drifted in the open window: the occasional roar of a high-powered car, the squawk and clatter of the seagulls on the roof that never seemed to sleep.

"I was scared you'd have found somebody else," Porthos murmured, hiding his face in Athos' hair and breathing in the scent of him. 

"What, with my social skills?" Athos smiled. "No, there's been no one. Has there for you?" he asked, and Porthos immediately looked shifty. 

"Does it matter?" 

"That means there has been," Athos said, and kissed him. "And no, it doesn't matter. You can tell me."

"There've been a couple of one night stands," Porthos admitted reluctantly.

"Passengers?" 

"One passenger. One member of the crew."

Athos looked up. "Not the chap with the ears?"

Porthos coughed. "Jeff. Yeah."

Athos stifled a snort of laughter and Porthos elbowed him. "Shut up. Actually, tell you the truth that was one of the reasons I took up the option to come back here. Sleeping with Jeff was a mistake, he was clearly angling for a follow up. I mean, he was nice enough, don't get me wrong, but - well. Wasn't him I was in love with, was it?"

"Oh Porthos." Athos wrapped his arms around Porthos' middle and hugged him. 

"You don't mind then?" Porthos asked, sounding relieved.

"I was the one who walked away," Athos said soberly. "I don't get to mind what, or who, you did after that. But no, of course I don't." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything. Screwing things up. Hurting you. I just couldn't see a way it could work without one of us having to give up everything we'd worked for."

"I would have," Porthos said under his breath. "For you, I would have."

"I know." Athos rested his head against Porthos'. "But do you think I could ever have forgiven myself if I'd let you?"

Porthos shook his head, more in bemusement than anything. "You're one cold bastard, you know that?"

"I prefer practical," Athos said with a faint smile. "But yes, you're probably right. Cold, rather ruthless, anti-social, and not a romantic bone in my body. I can't imagine what you see in me."

"Neither can I." Porthos smirked at him. "All I know is, I love you Athos. And I will bend over backwards to make this work, and I really think it could now. But you'll have to meet me halfway." Porthos took hold of Athos' hand, and kissed his knuckles. "Will you?"

Athos nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course I will. We'll make it work this time, I promise you." He paused. "And for the record? I love you too. I always did."

They kissed each other then, frantic and urgent, sealing the deal. When they broke off, Porthos gave Athos a suggestive grin.

"So. How would you _like_ to have a romantic bone in your body?"

\--


End file.
